In Pursuit of Wonder

February 18, 2023

I set out again, once in the pasture, I followed my snowshoe track from the week before. The snow had melted some more so I didn’t wear my snowshoes. Ice coated the low spot of the pasture beneath the ash and boxelder trees just before the woods. Instead of following the fence line up the slope, I stepped over the fence, pushing it down so it wouldn’t snag my snowpants, under the clump of walnut trees at the start of the woods. A log had white, fan-like mushrooms growing on it – reminding me of ruffles on a dress. Turkey tails perhaps. Some grow around a branch in a stack of ruffles like an Elizabethan collar. 

I had weaved around trees and brambles, walked down into a small gully to observe the fungus. I ambled the few feet out of the gully to the other side, stepped over a fallen tree. This was a new area for me. I had peered through the trees but never explored in this part until now. A large rock outcropping sat on the east slope. The hill is separated by a wide ravine/valley, a continuation of the low spot of the pasture. Unfortunately, early generations thought woodland ravines were great places to dump their garbage – old tires, farm machinery, cars and trucks. These woods are amazing and beautiful but tainted by the garbage. A tree grows between a pickup truck and its back bumper. I wish the trash, especially the piles of tires could be removed from the woods – how much would that cost? But since it happened so long ago, would the removal do more damage to the woods then just leaving it alone? I wonder. Through this area, the trees stand far apart from one another along the “bottom” that it’s quite open for awhile. 

I pause to examine a pile of fur, most likely a rabbit, a meal for a coyote. Maple, oak, elm, cherry, and boxelder are my tree companions. There’s a confusion of tracks in the snow, mostly white-tailed deer. I trek down and up a couple more small gullies. Looking up, to my left, I see the exposed bedrock I explored last week. Continuing onward, I scoot around a branch lying on the ground, its bark has been stripped off. I wondered if a buck rubbed his antlers on it. There’s a lot of fallen trees and logs scattered throughout these woods. Are there edible mushrooms growing here in the warm months? 

I arrive at a deeper, just a few feet, but narrow gully. More tires litter the area. It seems like a stream should be flowing here. In the spring there must be a lot of water flowing down this ravine to have cut what looks like a meandering stream channel. The east bank in this spot rises up immediately into a bluff, casting a shadow on the ravine/valley floor. There’s a big rock outcropping towards the top. The west bluff climbs up more gradually so is further away and bathed in sunshine. I observe a bulge on a tree, a fungal growth – is it chaga? I follow the water channel a ways. 

Pausing, I notice green fuzziness on a stump, moss alive and well in the middle of winter. I have begun to ascend the western slope. The exposed bedrock beckoning me forward and upward. Each sedimentary layer is visible. Dead plants, growing in a thin-layer of dirt on top of the rocks, dangle over the edge. Moss colonizes the rocks. Icicles hang from the crevices. After spending several moments taking in the rocks, I continued onward, this time mostly following the contour, going neither up nor down the slope. 

I came to another rock outcropping. I began to climb up. I reached for a hand hold on the rocky layers but it came apart in my grasp. I placed my hand elsewhere, more secure and pulled myself up, aware of the icy surface. I studied the rock more closely. What I had thought was limestone or dolomite was actually sandstone. No wonder a chunk broke off in my hand. – A huge hill with exposed sandstone outcroppings loomed to the east of my childhood home. I loved to rub two rocks together and watch the sand pile on the ground. My brothers and I dug holes in the sand around the exposed rock as homes for our toys, most various adaptations of Disney characters and Care Bears. We often played without the aid of toys, acting out stories set in Medieval times but romanticized as children do. Sometimes I just liked being there and feeling the coarse sand and pliable stones. What a fun discovery. – I had to negotiate around and under fallen trees to climb all the way on top of the rocks. A pile of animal droppings I didn’t recognize stopped me for a moment. Pellet shaped and white at one end. The mess of broken limbs and logs against the rocks, again took my thoughts to childhood at what an amazing place this would have been for a child at play. I rest on top of the rocks, standing on the edge, looking down at the slope I had ambled up. I take delight in such adventures. I longed to stay in the woods all day but thoughts of breakfast with my husband, Jesse, and the need to keep working on my book before milking drew me onward. I turned around and went left, following tracks through the trees and then back down, between rock outcroppings.  I followed along the rocks where the coyote tracks were, ducked under the tree limbs. Then up the slope again and under the fence, changing my mind about how to return, the pasture being less interesting and therefore faster. I paused to appreciate coyote tracks crossing the pasture going up above to the field. Retracing my tracks from previous outings, I wound my way back to the house.

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