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You never know what you might see on a beautiful summer day while walking through the woods: squirrel munching on an acorn, a rabbit foraging for on a grass, maybe you might see something completely different, out of the ordinary, something that sparks your imagination. Should you look up at the top of the trees? Or maybe look at the ground? You might see a beautiful bird spreading its wings. Or possibly see a small insect building a nest in the fallen leaves. Then again, looking down, you might catch sight of a large protruding tree root you might have tripped on if you hadn't been looking down. With my camera bag hanging on my shoulder and my camera strap around my neck, I began the long walk through the woods. I smiled at myself as I thought of Hansel and Gretel and wondered if I'd see anything resembling a small cottage. Maybe, I might see a tiny cottage what would remind me of the seven dwarfs, and I strained my ears as I waited to hear them sing, โHi Ho, hi ho! It's off to work I go!โ Laugh as loud as you'd like. Yes, I laughed at myself but remember, I was in the woods, alone and allowed my imagination to run wild. There was a warning sign at the park's entrance that said it was a two- mile hike. It also cautioned that there might be alligators in the area. As I made the way around the pond, I stopped daydreaming and became acutely aware. Somewhat disappointed, I saw no alligators. Disappointed and also relieved. While a photo this that magnificent creature would have been an awesome event, I also didn't want to take the change I might become lunch for the beast. I slowed my pace and walked a bit quieter until I was well clear of the pond. Oh, yeah, I did get a few photos of birds. In a way, they made up for the lack of โboot skinโ material. While I trekked on, I saw a few things that sparked my curiosity. I took a photo of a few pinecones that had neatly fallen from a tree and formed a perfect circle. That made me wonder how pine trees grew. As far as I knew, every plant had a seed. So, what was the seed of the pine tree? I was eager to get home and find out. I never knew until that day that the pinecones were the seeds, and they were male and female. What an eye-opener! I saw many palm fronds that looked like fans. In my mind, I thought of the old movies I'd seen of Cleopatra being fanned by such leaves. However, in the movies, the fans weren't dried out and brown as the ones I'd seen on the park floor. Yes, I did see and photograph a squirrel munching on something I couldn't quite visualize. He was so engrossed in his food, he never noticed me taking his picture. Since the park's trail was a two-mile hike, the county placed a few benches throughout the park so a weary hiker could sit and capture an interesting photo or maybe their breath. Some of us in the older generation, loose wind easily while others need to rest their arthritic bones. These benches come in extremely handy. Approaching a bench, I saw a photo that not only stopped me in my tracks, but also had my imagination running in crazy directions. I wanted to change the lens on my camera but decided to capture the picture first. However, before I did, I didn't bother looking upward but I did look around. While there was not a soul around, I chuckled to myself hoping that should someone be approaching in my direction, they wouldn't hear a crazy old lady laughing aloud at something they might not have understood. I saw a bench with a palm frond leaning against the nearby tree. Okay, so that isn't unusual in a park in Florida. My imagination made it unusual. The first mental image I had was an old woman who had been busy sweeping her cottage and decided to take a break and leaving her broom against the tree, took a walk in the woods looking herbs for her cauldron. The second vision was that of a witch who decided it was too nice a day to be flying around above the trees. She wanted to wander through her woods. As I said, I have quite an imagination. Sitting on the bench, I changed the lens on my camera, had a few mouthfuls of the water I'd brought with me, then after resting about half an hour, stood, took one more look around, and headed down the path that would eventually lead me out of the park. As you guessed, I saw no cottage, no old woman, no witch. Yet, it was fun to imagine all three lurking in the woods where I chose to spend a glorious afternoon. On my next trek to that park, I'll invite my friend to go with me so I can show here the awesomeness of nature. Who knows? Maybe next time, we might even see an alligator or two. Whatever we see, the trip is definitely worth the thirty minutes it takes to drive there.
Feeling very frustrated right now! I have spent many hours over the past week organizing the photos on my phone, moving many from the internal memory to the sd card. I would expect Instagram to draw from my camera gallery unless directed to the sd card by myself, but that's not how it's working! I have over 9,500 photos still in the internal memory, but Instagram only draws upon a small percentage of them before drawing upon those in the sd card. I hiked over to the retention ponds this morning for a few photos before going to Fred Meyer's for a new light for my aquarium.
I nibble on a cookie, my eyes transfixed on the puffs of smoke emerging from the peak of the volcano. My lips catch my breath before it can escape into the cool air. An ominous rumble echoes from within the shadows, and we watch in awestruck wonder as glowing orange chunks spew into the sky, racing past one another and grasping at the stars. Just out of reach, the embers relinquish their dream and streak back to earth, tumbling down the steep embankment until the shadows devour their brilliance. I wish I could watch this forever. It's early, but I say goodnight and duck into the tent, pulling another sweater over my head before burrowing into my sleeping bag. The rumbling lulls my eyelids to a close and I drift into sleep. I first notice the cold tickling my nose, and then the ache that clamps down on my shoulder as I roll over and dig for the watch inside my backpack pocket. 3:00 a.m. My fingers fumble for the zipper and I wiggle out of my sleeping bag, stuffing it into its sack and then sitting on it until the last hiss has escaped. I cram my feet into my hiking boots as I stumble to the door, shuffling along the edge of the path as the sand threatens to pull me down the precarious slope. Grabbing an outstretched hand, I pull myself safely into the light of the crackling fire. My backpack sends up a cloud of dust as it hits the ground and I puff hot air into my hands before bending down to tie my laces. I grab a bowl of oatmeal and a spoon, squishing between two others on a rickety bench. As the bowl begins to thaw my stiff fingers, the oatmeal glides down my throat with ease and smolders in my stomach like the embers in the fire. I've only just scraped the last remnants of breakfast onto my spoon when the guide calls for our attention. โTime to get moving if we want to make that sunrise!โ He gestures up the volcano, our path cloaked by a blanket of shadows. With my backpack snugly fitted against my shoulders, I slip into the line and I run my fingers over my headlamp, fumbling for the button. For a brief moment the light shines and I can see how caked with dust my boots are, but then it fades and dies. Quickening my pace, I follow closely at the heels of the person in front of me, scrounging for what leftover light I can put my feet in. As we walk, my boots slowly begin to materialize out of the darkness, and I turn and pause for a moment. A warm orange glow is beginning to stretch across the purple clouds that cascade like ocean waves, and the glistening lights strewn across the hillsides are growing dim. Running out of time. My breath and feet fall into a rhythm for the next hour or so as we trudge up the winding path. As I emerge from a cluster of trees, the wind strikes my cheeks with sharp lashes. The burning only intensifies as we continue to scramble up higher, finally catching a glimpse of the other side of the volcano. I try to scrunch my face, but my numb cheeks hang lifelessly. Clenching my hands around my poles sends pain shooting through my fingers, but I grimace and wiggle them more. โLet's wait here for the others to catch up,โ the guide announces as we duck behind a large boulder. I struggle to unclip the strap from my waist and tug open the zipper with my mittens on, but taking them off isn't an option since they're the only thing keeping my fingers from falling off. I yank another sweater from my pack and pull it over my head. I suck in a breath but the icy texture makes me shudder and regret it. By the time the last person has snuck behind the rock, I am eager to get going again. โThis is the last stretch,โ the guide comments, motioning up the formidable, steep hill. The sand collapses beneath my feet and I plunge my poles in ahead of me, pulling myself on top of them. I pause for a moment until I feel steady again. Two steps forward, one step back. Repeat. My eyes track the person stumbling upwards in front of me. Just make it to where they are. Good, that's good. Now up a little farther. I coax my shaking body from one checkpoint to the next, and my feet cry out in relief when they hit solid dirt rather than sand. I did it...I can't believe I did it! As I try to take in the view, I meet my friend's eyes and my lips explode into a grin as we throw ourselves into each other's arms. I shuffle closer to the edge of the volcano and sit down on a boulder to watch the sky. At last, the sun finally peeks over the horizon and warmth begins to stretch across the sea of clouds, casting sparkles across the hills. I can't help but wonder if the sun waited for me to get to the top before unveiling itself. The bottom of the clouds are bathed in warm yellow, while the tops are drenched in a deep violet that bleeds into the sky like a waterlogged painting. This is more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. The frigid air now feels exhilarating in my lungs. As I sit and gaze at the glowing horizon, I realizeโI didn't conquer the volcano, I conquered myself.
Margalla hills are situated on the boundary of beautiful city Islamabad.It is the reason behind tourism in islamabad .People go to margalla hills for hiking,picnic and for enjoyment.\nIt was the month of March when my uncle asked me to go to hiking with him. I declined his offer because I thought It was boring to do so.But somehow, my uncle managed to agree me. We went to the trail 5 for hiking. Trail 5 is the most beautiful and popular trail for hiking. While passing through trail 5 there are many beautiful scenes , especially when it is evening. \nWhen I saw the trail , I was pretty impressed by it's beauty. Many people came there for hiking even the old ones.\nI witnessed a beautiful sunset there ( I also took it's picture and the picture is attached below) , Oh my God that was the most remarkable scene I\\"ve ever seen in my life. I was shocked to see the beauty of margalla hills. There were many trees , wind was blowing and sky looked like a cotton candy.\nI really thanked my uncle for this beautiful trip . It really arose the love for nature in my heart . From then I have been hiking for almost an year and I love doing it . I will do it again and again and again ...
My favorite memory is hard to understand unless you know my least favorite memory. My favorite memory is filled with heart warming emotions and joyful tears, but I could not appreciate it at all if I didn't experience the worse moment if my life. The worse moment was my mom's death. I was 16 at the time but was prepared for it years ago. From the age of 12 to 16, I managed to cope with my mom being sick. I got use to the doctor appointments, the hospital visits, and her missing certain things, like birthday parties or soccer games. Nevertheless, my mom was my mom and I loved her dearly. When cancer took her life, I made my peace with it. Someone once told me that the worst feeling in the world was losing a loved one. To me, the worst feeling in the world is the feeling of loneliness. I hear people say that they are lonely because they were in a crowded place and didn't know anyone there. To me, its not the same as loneliness. I was at my mom's funeral when the feeling occurred. The air was still, chilling almost, as if I was in a horror movie and hadn't realize it yet. Everyone was wearing black. Even the bring colors like the pink and red roses had a dark shadow around it. I felt a coldness running up my spine, and I could feel the hair on my arms sticking up. My lips were dry and eyes were wet. I remember walking past the room where my brother and his friends were. They were talking loudly, spoke with up beat voices, and sounded like they would any other day of the week. Life was beaming out of that room. I felt abandoned by them โ like they somehow moved on and left me out in the cold, locking the door behind them. I remember walking past them, heading straight down the hallway to this empty room in the very back. The walls were yellow, the floor was brown, and the curtains were pink; yet the room seemed like it was grey, as if all the colors were drained. As if the life was drained from that room. I remember sitting alone. The room was so quiet that I could hear my own heart beat. I was sitting there, and I knew I was alive yet I could swear to you that I was lifeless. That is the worst feeling of loneliness I have ever felt. Weeks later, I felt something more powerful than that. I felt love. Growing up, little girls are taught that true love is when a boy meets a girl, then they kiss. I do believe that is a form of true love, but not the only kind. When I felt love, it was the moment my best friend decided I needed to get out of the house. It was freezing outside, enough to make your drool turn into ice, but nevertheless we decided to go on a hike. We pulled on three pairs of pants, our thickest winter coat and left the house before sunrise on Saturday morning. We walked through this shoveled out path next to this great big lake. There was hardly any wind and not a snowflake in the sky. I remember the smell of the pine trees. I remember breathing in the fresh air and feeling the air fill up my lungs. I remember every concerning step that made me wonder โis this snow or ice?โ and I remember taking the chance anyway. When we got to the top of the hill, the sun was just about to come up. I remember watching it so clearly. How the sky was fading into a golden yellow. I remember the sun rays stretching out as far as they could, over our heads and over the land we just walked across. The sun rays kissed every inch of my body until I couldn't help but smile. My friend had reached out for my hand, holding it in a comforting way. She then told me that we'll get through it together. That it was okay to feel weak, or small, and that it might not seem like it at times but life will go on and so will I. She looked like an angel, my best friend did, the way the sun danced across her face and the way the cold air made her checks rosy. I felt love in that moment. Love for her, for the nature around us, for myself, and for life. It was no true loves kiss, but I swear it was true, pure love. My heart felt warm, my eyes filled with joyful tears, and my checks hurt from my smile. I felt love because I knew I was alive and it made me want to live. And that is why that hike is my favorite memory I have. If I didn't experience the feeling of loneliness, I think I would have missed that moment of love. It would have just been another hike, another day, another sun rise. I think to truly appreciate the moments of compassion, kindness, and love, we sometimes have to understand what it feels like to not have that. The worst moment in my life will forever be my worst moment, but I choose not to regret it or hate it. Yet instead be grateful for it. I was 16 when I felt this and I could only imagine if I was much older. If that dreadful feeling came when I was 40 or older, I would have missed so many moments along the line for simply not understand what they truly were. My first true love moment, even though it was my best friend, will forever hold a special place in my heart and will forever be my favorite moment.