The Feeling of Being Watched

The Feeling of Being Watched

Each time I’ve gone to my scape so far I have felt as though I was being watch. Of course this doesn’t make sense to me because the pitch is in a secluded place. The only people who would see me are those walking to and from their cars in the school of social work parking lot. So where are the eyes? In the trees? The wind? I can’t give a name or a face or a semblance of an identity to what or who it is that I feel is watching. It also occurs to me that this could just be my way of projecting my feeling of being intrusive upon the grounds of the pitch at this time of year.

The earth there is not welcoming. The trees are brittle sleepers waiting for a reason to wake up. Tiny pinecones are half-frozen in ice on portions of the ground. Other portions of the ground are covered in packed snow that’s almost frozen, but not quite, like the kind that crunches when you walk over it. It’s also the kind of crunching sound that makes you want to walk across the snow just for the sound of it, like eating chips long after you’re tired of the taste simply because you crave crushing and chewing.

I suppose I go to my scape hoping to find peace in its seclusion, but in this season I have found was a chill and a feeling of uneasiness. Understandably, my scape has little to give right now. All I gave were footprints that will freeze overnight.