In Pursuit of Wonder

February 4, 2023

After my walk last week, I strapped on snowshoes so I wouldn’t be postholing this time. A fierce wind greeted me. The wind shifted the snow, creating beautiful patterns, like shifting sands on a beach. I walked along the road, up a slight incline, turned left, and stepped over the wire gate which looks like a slinky toy. I high-stepped through the snow, down the small hill and over another single strand barbed wire gate. I turned right, taking the pasture lane as before. Winter is so beautiful with plenty of snow. And although cold it’s refreshing. 

Down the lane a ways, I turned around to look back at my snowshoe tracks; they looked like a giant duck walked through. The sun reflected off the white ground. I headed for the peninsula of trees. I was breathing heavily; I had forgotten how much work snowshoeing is, but I loved it. It was exciting to have enough snow to snowshoe. The sky was incredibly blue, only a few wispy clouds. Once again, I paused by the tiny cedar tree. The snow had drifted on its east side, all the tracks from the other day were covered up. I was enthralled by the tree shadows cast against the snowy slope. 

I high-stepped downhill to the seasonal waterway, the lowest ground in the pasture. Seedpods sprinkled the snow all around the tree. There were hints of my tracks from the other day. I heard the hairy woodpecker drumming. It’s actual song sounds like a squeaky toy. Deer tracks led down the hill and into the woods. I followed along the fenceline, pausing a moment to peer through the trees. The fenceline had me ambling uphill, past the pile of concrete slabs with myriads of tracks around it. Rabbit tracks led the way as I turned right, following the contour of the land. Paper birch trees drew me onward. After another bend to my right, I found a high spot in the fence, dropped to my hands and knees and crawled under. 

While walking in the woods, I had to be mindful of sticks and logs – being careful not to damage the snowshoes. Tracks in the snow were jumbled, deer and coyote tracks merged. I spied a big, round growth on a tree and wondered if it was a chaga mushroom even though it wasn’t a paper birch. The woods were peaceful and uplifting as always. I strode along, sometimes picking my feet up much higher than usual. I ducked under low hanging branches, which was more of a workout with snowshoes. I wish there had been enough snow to go snowshoeing all winter and hoped February would be snowy all month. I weaved between trees, marveling in their company, elated to be in the woods again. I passed exposed bedrock, snow coating it like frosting. Several inches of snow topped fallen trees and logs too. Nuthatches and chickadees called. 

I paused above a ravine, wondering how best to cross it. I decided I’d walk down the steep bank. I thought, “am I going to fall?” There weren’t trees to hold onto to aid in my descent. Sure enough, down I went, onto my wrists and then knees. Thankfully with several inches of snow and being bundled up, the fall really didn’t hurt too much. I sat there for a few moments, taking in the snow laden logs spanning the ravine. Awkwardly, I situated the snowshoes so I could stand up again. The claws on the bottom of the snowshoes bit into the snow as I ambled up the other side. The bark of a dead tree was sloughing off. An exposed outcrop sat just on the other side of the ravine. I had to step high over various logs strewn all over the forest floor. Another dead tree, standing naked, caught my attention finding beauty in the exposed wood. I passed under maples, elm, oak, cherry, and basswood. I followed a coyote trail around the tree trunks along a rock outcropping. With some effort, I climbed up and over the snow blanketed woods. I continued up the slope back towards the pasture. Unfortunately, there’s a lot of buckthorn here.

 At the barbed wire fence, I halted to observe several hairs, most likely from a white-tailed deer clung to a few of the barbs.  Avoiding the barbs of the buckthorn and fence, I pushed past the branches and crawled on my hands and knees under the fence. I came out by a characterful oak tree – further along the fence line other oaks still held their russet leaves. A small eastern red cedar. Deer and coyote tracks created trails in the pasture snow. Following along the fence line wrapping around the contour of the land, I halted to take in the shimmering green beauty of aspen trees. I rejoined my tracks coming out and returned the way I came.

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