“I open my eyes upon waking to one final magic trick from the Snow Queen and another day alone burning the last of the firewood. I’m finishing up my winter work. There’s fluffy stuff all over the crab apples, crocus & bloodroot. Later, a trip down the hill dislodges avalanches from my car’s roof to the windshield, & I’m forced to brake in place and get out to shovel snow off the glass. It’s a beautiful place to have issues that arrest forward motion. Looking up the ridge, I remember digging ramps one spring with my kids. Then there’s a mysterious vernal pool I can glimpse over the hay field to the south, in full flood. Why haven’t I ever traipsed down there? Note to self: do it, while the water’s still high. The stream in the cleft between Taylor’s and Clough’s holds tales, to be met by the intrepid. You get opportunities to know land, but it’s not an open ticket. It comes due, and you may lose out. So, a life is limited by how much of oneself is available to notice extraordinary things. Ordinary things. The casual passage of seasonal changes, that can delight, illuminate or go unnoticed. I took note of the condition of the pull off, on my way back from the post office, and made a decision as to whether or not my car could manage the slight incline. I’ll come back, and go exploring. I may not have anyone to go with, because we get stranded due to misunderstandings, and pandemics. I don’t blame anyone, it’s just how hard it is to be human. We choose to lose faith. We choose to disengage. We give up on some of our best friends. Just because one sees one thing, and the other, the other. One day, I’ll be expectantly waiting for you at my picnic. In the most wild place, when everything has pretty much left the barn.”
