I push myself away from the computer, where I’ve been enmeshed in writing an article about Alzheimer’s, hardly aware of the world beyond this blinking screen. Outside I step into grasses grown tall and lush, sprinkled with yellow sulfur flower, pink geraniums, purple lupine, white daisies, and columbines. Among low-flying hummingbirds, I walk down the road, past cabins, falling down sheds, thick willow bushes and wild roses.
At the edge of the meadow, my view suddenly opens: the low hills to the east, tapering down to the plains; the view across the valley to the cabin with its red metal roof shining among the uniform stands of green pines; and west toward Mount Meeker, mostly hidden by clouds.
Just like that I’m in another reality, one light-years away from the world inside my computer, where email messages zap by continuously: sign this petition, save the wolves, give money to the Sierra Club, five exercises you must do every day, 10 foods that will increase your brain power, more turmoil in Greece.
Out here four young aspen stand in a circle. Swallows gather themselves in the air. Behind me I can hear the creek running strong and determined. I start breathing again.