Every week, I go to the nearby town of Canton, Ohio, to get water from a spring where hundreds of local folks also get their water.
Today, instead of simply filling my glass jugs and leaving, I thought to explore the area -- a riverfront where I’d often noticed people walking and jogging.
I pulled around to a parking lot, got out of my car and began to walk the manmade path with everybody else. But then I noticed a path into the forested hills beyond the asphalt.
And that’s the path I took.


I meandered back and forth along the many paths, up, up, up into the wildflower-dotted hills as if I were in the true Appalachian mountains of my youth that I long for sometimes.
I came upon aster red-painted steps leading ever higher into the hills.
I came upon a stream crossed by a curved wooden bridge.
Still, there was nobody but me to echo and relish the silence. In rare and perhaps longed-for solitude, I walked along the stream and across it. I took more photos, and then down the other side where I saw a large field of lilies.
As I approached the lilies, I began seeing other manmade structures. I saw an arbor and stone paths, a bench, landscaped flower gardens flowers, a butterfly garden, a bell tower, and the sign, "Canton Gardens."
I stayed here in this place for an hour or more that day, marveling at the lovely things that can happen when my feet take me where they will.
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I delighted in the discoveries I can make when I have no provocation or agenda.
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I felt awe, pure, childlike delight and joy at what can happen when I allow myself to wander.
