Living on intimate terms with nature,
one inadvertently becomes different from other people.
Her silent language penetrates, saturates,
persuades one gently of the insufficiently of human speech.
The pounding rain on the roof last night confirmed my belief that rain is noisy while snowfalls are silent. Yes, I am sure you all know that and that is not my point. It is December I should not hear anything this time of year in the middle of the night. November left with rain and December entered with rain. This will make for an interesting year.
It has been quite a while since I have walked back to the bush and wandered randomly among the trees and the wildlife. I was ready, slippery wet leaves and muddy hills or not. This is something I have missed. Our bush on the farm is my place of memories and my place of solace. All that I am is wrapped up here in the trees, winding paths, the miles of rail fence, the stories that hide among the rocks on the ridge and those whispers that linger. Memories and stories from long ago merge as one and sometimes find their way to the paper that waits patiently in my pocket.
I dressed in layers, pulled on those Pink Cadillac Boots (Muck Boots), lined coveralls and an old ball cap. Grabbed my camera and headed down the lane way. This was an exciting step for me. I have been doing lots of walking but usually on sidewalks in the big city and our small town, not far from the farm. The ground on the farm especially where the cows roam can be very uneven. A person with back problems will notice that pretty quickly as your spine bends this way and that way, whether you want it too or not.
As I passed by the cows they turned to look but then quickly turned back to what they had been concentrating on. A beautiful six point buck stood there and stared at this girl dressed in pink boots, a bright orange jacket, and orange ball cap. I could not help but think this fellow was fascinated by my keen sense of fashion.
When I reached the red gate that keeps our cows safe from harm during the winter, I climbed over. I had not climbed anything for a very long time. It felt right. The smell of wet leaves filled the air. The Blue Jays were bickering overhead as I walked into the entrance to Gracies Lane. No doubt, they did not recognize me, as it had been quite a while and they were arguing about who I was.
The trees were quiet there was no snapping in the wind which always seems to rip down this path on the ridge. This constant wind tunnel was evident when I spotted a tall beautiful tree that had fallen. Only one tiny branch held it up from its fall on our beautiful fence. My Hero will have to cut it down or no doubt it will land on the rail fence below and crush it. Our cows need to have those fences when spring comes back. Now is the time to make sure it gets taken care of before it makes for more work later.
The climb down, and then up again was a bit challenging. It turned into something like a game of snakes and ladders. A roll of the dice, where you were not sure if it would be one step up, then two slips down on a slippery carpet of leaves. The trees above held those rain drops and as I grabbed hold to stop from a tumble down it rained down all that clung to the leaves. I loved it. This is what I had been missing while I walked in the cities and towns trying to get my strength back.
I am where I belong and life is good. It may have taken me some extra time to complete this hike but I did it. Never give up. Now we need some snow.