December 19, 2010
Baking cookies and finishing some Christmas presents has kept me more house bound than I would have wanted today. Yesterday, my daughter, her partner and I brought in this year’s tree. I had spied one near my driveway that I thought would be in the way in about five years. The top was comparable to a tree-farm tree. Unlike most that I cut and my daughter complains I always pick “Charlie Brown” trees. This year I thought I had out-done myself. I couldn’t remember how big it was at the base, so had her partner bring the chain saw, we didn’t need it. My daughter took one look at the beautiful tree I intended to cut down and said, “That’s too nice to cut.” She looked around; there were many small firs in the vicinity. “How about this one, it’s too close to that pine anyway?” I replied, “So now you are getting Charlie Brown trees.” She cut it down, pulled it to the house, and we decorated one more Charlie Brown. In spite of its gaps and spindly branches it looks nice.
I did a quick walk of the loop, through the woods to the waterfall and up around. It is cold; there is ice on the rocks where the spray from the falls splashes out. The little eddy has chunks of ice floating in circles. Soon they will be worn down to round pads. We had quite a lot of rain last weekend, then the cold set back in. The vernal pools are clear, etched with air bubbles and a filigree of white crystals, while the leaves underneath are cast with extra clarity.

December 6, 2010

A gift of a snow day today. So with unfettered time, I went for another walk in the woods. Today, no dog accompanied me, so all was relatively quiet. I heard the skreak as the soles of my boots compressed the snow beneath my feet, my heart beating and the puff of my breath. Upon stopping in a stand of firs, I heard the quiet call of a chickaddee or a golden crewned kinglet. I suspected a kinglet because the call was so quiet, and I did not see the bird, another indication that it was the kinglet. The vernal pools that I routinely pass were a steely gray as the snow settled and sank into the warmer water. I wondered about the frogs, tadpoles and salamanders that have dug deep underneath the ground to survive this winter.

I am reading The Watchers at the Pond, by Franklin Russell. It is an older book, from the 60's, that I found at the Goodwill. I liked the picture on the cover. Russell follows the life in and around a northeastern pond for a year. He writes of the struggles with the cold, heat, predators and unseuccessful breeding. It is bleak, yet extraordinary. I tend to look at the beauty I see in nature, not the hardship. One winter, I found the frozen body of a Golden Crowned Kinglet. I picked it up and admired the shading and the delicacy of its feathers. I did not think of how it happened to be dead under this particular tree. Of how it settled against the trunk of the tree during a particularly cold night and its metabolism slowed and slowed until it stopped all together. Now, I may think differently as I walk my woods. I will wonder about the birds, turtle,and the beavers that I share this space with. Maybe i am lucky that i have come from a species that has developed a brain that can manipulate external forces to survive. At any rate, I sit here cozy in my home as the snow continues to fall.

December 5, 2010

The first post in a long time, it is accompanied by the first snow that I was able to witness. I had returned home from a Thanksgiving trip to see snow, but today I watched it fall and went out in it.
I have been neglecting this writing through the hectic time of summer and fall; gardening, harvesting, splitting and stacking wood. All those activities that the ant bustles to get done while the grasshopper plays his fiddle. Now I can return to the inner sphere and resume this passion that I have missed.
I went walking with my daughter's dog today. She has returned to her house next door, having been away for two years. Walking with a dog in the woods creates a different experience. The still contemplative musings of a solitary walker are abrubtly altered by an excited, quick footed puppy. He'd prefer that I threw a stick for him to retrieve every ten seconds. Sometimes I oblige, sometimes I don't. When I stop to take a photo of a lingering red partridge berry, he steps on it. But he carries an excitement that is contagious. I find myself smiling, laughing and walking more light-heartedly with him bounding around. As I walked today I realized that the next few trips out will require me to bring the pruners along. The trails are getting narrower as small saplings thicken and grow. I will certainly need to get out before I head out with the skis, I'm already a pretty clumsy skier, I don't need little trees tripping me up!
So here goes to my faithful reader of one! ie: jg. do you still check this now and then?