It's a long hard climb over yonder hill.

The first hill I come upon if I go to the left out of our driveway is deceiving. Perhaps I find it difficult because I have ridden such a short distance and boom there it is. It is a sharp bend in the road to the right. I play a game with myself; if I swing wide and cross to the other side of the road while turning and climbing, the hill is gentler but longer. If I stay tight to the right, I have to contend with the steepness and the stones that spill out of the Luce's driveway.

The middle is not an option, the hill-curve is also a blind spot for what ever vehicle may barrel by. Friday morning around here is a big day for lawn maintenance. Entire crews arrive too early and mow, blow and weed whack, having off loaded their equipment from flatbeds that could carry a ship.


This morning posed an even bigger decision than choosing the right or left side of the hill. This one had me stumped, briefly. I saw the turtle heading up and over, he still had a long way to go before he came upon anything soft and green and even longer for anything wet.

I put my kickstand down and went over to see how this was going to go. He was not afraid of me, nor I of him. Immediately the turtle had become a male in my mind because if I let myself start thinking about baby turtles or eggs and where they might be, my heart would have wrenched and I would have been no help at all.

Knowing what I had to do, my rescue mission fell into place. I heard in my mind my husband's voice saying, no, don't touch the turtle Kath, he knows where he is going, he will be fine.

The beauty of being alone is, it is only your own voice you need to heed, the decisions are one's own. I struck up a chat with this guy and he looked me square in the eye and listened.

Here is what we are going to do Turtle: I am going to airlift you to a soft marshy place where you will be safe. If I leave you here, at the pace you are going chances are you will be flattened by the time I ride the loop and I can not live with that.

I crouched down and spread my fingers very wide and grasped his beautiful shell with my fingers and thumb. He tucked his head in for the ride and the lower front part of his body came up and closed. I was grateful he chose to make himself compact rather than flail, for as beautiful as his orange and brown shell was, his scaley legs and neck and feet said reptile to me.


I carried him across the street and down a rocky overgrown path to the water's edge. I crouched again and nestled him in a spot of damp earth close to the creek. The water is right there, a few feet ahead, you are pointed in the right direction I told him, but I knew he knew.


I stood for a moment and watched the moored sailboats bobbing about the creek. I hope by now Turtle is swimming in the cool water and that I did the right thing. I know I did the right thing, a FedEx truck just roared by.