I've
been fighting a bad case of pathitis lately. It's especially dangerous
when it afflicts me while I'm on my mower. The disease actually comes
in two forms. One--that usually is at its greatest during the autumn
(occasionally in mid-May) causes the ill person to put flowers in old
paths and then, to let the old paths grow up again reclaiming their
wildness--with a touch of naturalized
beauty. The "destructive" one usually arises within the soul this time
of year--the first days of summer. It causes the afflicted to decide he
needs new paths where there have never been paths before. The danger
is that you're never quite sure what you may be cutting down. In my
case, I pride myself in knowing where most of the "good stuff" comes up,
even in the wild area. We all know how marvelous pride is in being
right. And who knows what the Gardening Angels might have been up to
over the winter? Sigh. I succumbed. There are four new paths in the
wild area.
(But, heh-heh, I can always get the other type of pathitis this fall.)
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