
                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: SATURDAY, June 16, 1990                   TAG: 9006180272
SECTION: EDITORIAL                    PAGE: A9   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: MONTY S. LEITCH
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

SLOW AND STEADY, LIKE A TURTLE

THE OTHER day when I started out to the barn to get the mower, I saw a box turtle nosing around up next to the tool shed. He had his bright orange neck stuck way out. So I went up there and set him back in the day lilies. I once accidentally ran over a turtle with the mower and the outcome was not good. I didn't want to do it again.

But after I'd mowed around the yard's perimeters a few times, I saw the turtle again. This time he'd got himself all the way down to the mulberry tree in front of the house and he was moseying in and out of a stack of logs there against the trunk.

The sun was still coming in low from the east. That turtle's gold-mottled back seemed lit from within, and he kept sticking out his sparkling orange neck. When I'd picked him up, next to the day lilies, he'd worked his legs and neck with vigor. I thought I could feel his muscles bulging even through his carapace, even through my leather gloves.

I suppose you'd expect a creature carrying such armor to build the body for it. But I was surprised by the power, just as I was surprised again by the distance he'd covered so quickly. A box turtle seems so small and slow.

But slow and steady, as they say.

I kept mowing, watching for the turtle every turn around the yard. For a long time he stayed under the tree, moving in and out of the cool damp grass there. Then, apparently, he moved on. I rounded the yard again and couldn't spot him.

I once worked in an office where productivity was measured on weekly activity sheets. Twice a year each worker wrote long-range goals, which he or she then broke down into smaller objectives. Every week, each of us noted on our activity sheets which of these objectives had been achieved; each of us noted progress, by leaps and bounds, toward our stated goals.

I was a whiz at this game. I met a zillion objectives. I achieved tons of goals. I ran through the weeks in harried frenzies, filling activity sheets. Then I quit the job.

Sometimes these days I'll set a tentative goal. Something like, "Paint the bathroom by fall." Mostly, I piddle around and putter. Sometimes I do nothing more than feel the sun on my back. It's my way of sticking my neck out: proceeding without clear objectives, accomplishing undefined goals. Just moving along, slow and steady, with no particular place to go.

I don't often see box turtles in the yard. I think it's too hot and dry for them here. But I have a bleached and almost perfect carapace that I found in the woods. I keep it on the shelf with the bones I've found. They're good reminders, I think.

by CNB