In Pursuit of Wonder

July 16, 2023

The air is so polluted from Canada wildfires, I can’t tell if it is sunny or cloudy. It is fairly breezy. I arrived in the woods at 3:15 pm. I bicycled along the dead end gravel road, through the pasture, and past the pond. I parked my bicycle at the top of the hill, near the fence line separating the pasture from the field. I trotted down the slope to the other fence line and woods, looking for a place to crawl under the wire. I used to walk over the fence via a boxelder tree leaning over it, but my mother-in-law had cut it. Though I knew the fence needed to be maintained which means cutting up trees that fall on top of it, I was sad to no longer have this bridge into the woods. Also, unlike many farmers, I enjoy boxelder trees. They have spunky character and have more ecological benefits than people realize. I ambled downhill, southward, where the washout entered the woods, feeding the huge ravine. There, I crawled under the fence. 

Ah, peace and refreshment. The power of the woods to heal a person is amazing – and scientifically proven. Mosquitoes threatened and attempted to dampen my peace but I ignored them as best I could. I took in the beauty around me. It seemed greener than last week with the spot of rain. The soil was still damp. I scooped up a handful, lifted it to my nose and took a big whiff – it smelled amazing. The soil sifted through my fingers, dropping back to the ground. I followed along the meandering course of the ravine, breathing deeply of the healing power of green plants. Two or three blue jays jeered and screamed at me as I passed, well maybe they were yelling at each other. A chipmunk scolded me; we’ve seen each other many times before. 

I paused my stroll, a yellow cottonwood leaf lay on the ground. My eyes lifted to the trees around me, scanning the branches and bark, wondering where the cottonwood tree stood. I don’t know of any cottonwood trees in this area, and I couldn’t find one. Perhaps it was on the other side of the bluff at the head of the ravine, just out of sight. Some silver maples grew on the woodland edge. Elms stood proudly. I was surprised to see so much new growth of garlic mustard, usually an early spring plant. I pulled a few plants out as I passed. (They’re an invasive species but are edible.) Gooseberry plants grew in an abundance but I observed no fruit. Cawing of crows echoed through the woods. A sandstone rock with a hole in it caught my attention, I stooped down and picked it up for a closer look, rolling it around in my hands. A chipmunk scampered in the leaf litter on the bluff side above me. A few paces further on, another chipmunk ran along a log behind me. 

Ducking under fallen trees, climbing over others, I wound my way down the ravine. Dirt on the hillside, at the foot of a tree, began to move. Curious, I paused to watch. What was it? I caught a glimpse of light gray fur, it was impossible to tell the size of the creature. I looked on for a few more moments hoping it would reveal itself but it did not. Onward. The next thing to catch my attention was a huge pile of feathers – was the bird killed or molting? Fresh dryad’s saddle mushrooms grew on a log. I cut them off and placed them in my bag, they’ll be a tasty treat. One was nibbled on, I left it. Which creatures eat dryads’? I glimpsed a butterfly, perhaps a monarch fluttering about. I sat on a fallen dead tree and pulled out my sketchbook. I drew a stump sitting part way up the slope from me. Not great, but better than the attempt at sketching the chipmunk a week earlier – it at least looked like a stump, well sort of anyway. I found a bone, perhaps a deer pelvis. I tried sketching it too, but that did not turn out. All too soon it was time to be heading back.

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