In Pursuit of Wonder

July 9, 202

Today, I saved my walk for the afternoon so I could spend as much time as I wanted in the woods. As always, I was armed with my camera and had my backpack with a journal, sketchbook, a couple of field guides, water and a snack. I strolled along our dead end, gravel road, perhaps a quarter to half a mile, then turned right down the field and pasture driveway. I paused at the gate, unhooked it and passed through. Closing it, I continued onward, wondering if the beef cows were nearby. As I approached the large pond, I noticed vultures. Not one or two but ten hung around the pasture. Some circling above, a few sat on fence posts. Hmm. What were they hanging about for? Hopefully all the cows and calves were alive. But I didn’t see the beef herd and didn’t concern myself too much. My father in-law would check on them before going in for the day. A moderate breeze rustled the plants, no clouds dotted the azure sky. Although it is July, one could not tell by the landscape which should be brilliant, dark green yet. Instead, the grass is brown and shriveled. Tree leaves are a dusty, dull, tired, almost gray green. The landscape is parched; we haven’t received much more than an inch of rain since Mother’s Day. 

I ambled onward, around the pond to the dike, and down the steep backside of it to the fence line separating the pasture from the woods. A washout, the start of a huge ravine begins in the pasture. I follow it to the fence, and crawl under where it sits higher from the ground. As always, upon entering the woods, I feel a huge load is lifted off from my shoulders, I begin to relax. The only downside to the woods this time of year is that the mosquitoes are thick and ravenous; I hoped with the lack of moisture there wouldn’t be many, although perhaps there would have been many more if it wasn’t a drought. I walked along the pebble strewn, meandering ravine, pausing momentarily to study interesting looking rocks. Jack-in-the-pulpit plants were setting berries, which were still green. Ostrich ferns covered part of the buffside as I passed. The stone foundation sat tucked in among the vegetation on the slope above me, to the right. I ducked under, and scooted over fallen trees and decaying, moss covered logs. I paused at a hole in the side of the hill, briefly wondering who lived inside – a wolf or badger easily could have through the den opening. 

Two deer ran away from me, all I saw was a flash of white. At times the ravine was narrow, though deep, the banks steep; sometimes it was wide and shallow. A dead tree lay across a shallow, wide spot, just before it narrows and plunges down stone steps. I sat on the tree trunk and pulled out my journal to take notes. At the far end of my dead tree, a chipmunk darted about. It sat staring me down for four minutes, with a look of defiance and irritation that I was there. It was not afraid, however. I tried sketching it but quickly became frustrated with my inability to do so well, so I reverted back to my camera – something I can do well. I slid my journal and pencil into my backpack, drank some water, and hopped off the tree, to continue my trek down the huge ravine. 

Gingerly and with care, I climbed down the stone steps, worn smooth by melt and rain water. Over some level ground, and then the ravine plunged down over boulders and logs. Moss encased them, I stepped onto one such rock the moss slide right off; it was so dry it didn’t have a good hold on the substrate. Grieved I had harmed it, I apologized. I had climbed down into a beautiful rocky gorge. Grand and majestic. I would love to share this spot with my Mom, some of my siblings and nephews and nieces who would thoroughly enjoy it. Rocks and trees are my paradise; a stream or river would be ideal too. I wondered about what may live in the rock crevices – hoping there are snakes. I observed a rock that layers, swirls of the mud from which it was formed could easily be seen.

Gingerly and with care, I climbed down the stone steps, worn smooth by melt and rain water. Over some level ground, and then the ravine plunged down over boulders and logs. Moss encased them, I stepped onto one such rock the moss slide right off; it was so dry it didn’t have a good hold on the substrate. Grieved I had harmed it, I apologized. I had climbed down into a beautiful rocky gorge. Grand and majestic. I would love to share this spot with my Mom, some of my siblings and nephews and nieces who would thoroughly enjoy it. Rocks and trees are my paradise; a stream or river would be ideal too. I wondered about what may live in the rock crevices – hoping there are snakes. 

I scrambled up some boulders at the bottom of the ravine. I met with another chipmunk, which scampered away promptly. While hiking, I was enjoying the company of trees: elms or ironwood, sugar maples, black walnuts, oaks, paper birch here and there. The bark of a paper birch has the appearance of peeling wallpaper or old paint. Two gray squirrels rustled in the leaf litter carpeting the forest floor. My fingers caressed tree trunks as I passed. I was hot and sweaty from the walk. I ambled down an erosion gorge, my feet slipping on loose soil and rocks. From there, I climbed to the old snowmobile trail, which was steep and arduous. I held onto trees to pull myself up the slope, feet slipped several times. I clung to trees while I regained my footing. 

Once on the trail, I sauntered down in, along the side of the bluff to the bottom. From there, I located the ravine Anne and I climbed last year. It’s challenging, nearly a vertical climb in some places; I grabbed hold of rocks as I made my way upward. Half way up, I left the ravine behind, following along a deer path, going westward. I passed under a basswood tree, pausing to look up at the sunlight passing through its leaves. The walking was challenging, the bluff side is so steep you feel like you are walking sideways, one foot significantly lower than the other. I came to a huge rock outcropping with a vertical drop of more than ten feet (I am not good at estimating distance but it seemed a long way down. Hepatica and wild ginger gathered in abundance. I sat here for a while just thinking. I also took more notes. It was an excellent place for thinking, writing, sketching, and reading – too bad it was challenging and far to get to, although there is an easier way via the top of the bluff and through the pasture to approach it. I think I could have been content to stay there for hours but looking at the time and how far I had to return, I decided to turn back. My return trek was a bit more direct, back to the snowmobile trail and along it to the huge ravine that runs below it. Under the fence, up the dike, through the pasture, along the road, across the yard, and back to the house.