In Pursuit of Wonder

October 13, 2024

Jesse was busy today so we were unable to hike together, instead I ventured out and through our woods on my own. After a couple of Sundays in a row, leaving the farm and sharing a hike, it felt lonely and almost dull setting out on my own this afternoon. I love exploring on my own, and in our woods since I am still becoming familiar with them, but I had been looking forward to a hike with Jesse. Since I went on my own, I took a notebook with me to write a bit while out there.

 I walked northeast of the house, across the backyard, along the gravel road, and into the pasture. A strong wind blew, and an overcast sky stood watch. I trudged through the difficult terrain of the pasture, the lay of the ground hidden by grass, following the fence line and skirting the bramble-filled part of the beginning of the woods in that area. Jesse must have lightly grazed this part of the pasture, the grass was long and thick. The walnut trees stood bare having already lost their leaves. I tried to avoid stepping on any round nuts sprinkled on the ground which the squirrels had not yet picked up. Other trees sported yellow and orange leaves, and still others were still green. The aspens leaves – tinged yellow, not yet in full autumn color – swayed in the breeze. I cherish these aspen trees with their eye-catching white bark. My route wound around the hill, following the contour of the land. 

Once I figured I had gone far enough to avoid the most overgrown part of those woods, I ducked under the fence, crawled under and squeezed past grasping buckthorn branches. I traipsed a narrow deer trail into the woods. I stooped for a closer look at the jawbone of a medium to small animal with canine teeth, resting upon a nest of leaves. I ambled downhill and then up again. Pausing at a mossy topped stump, I thought of the Lorax who speaks for the trees, and became overwhelmed with an ache for all nature. – We stand to lose so much if we do not take action to end the climate crisis, which we can do and without too much sacrifice. I am proud that Jesse and his dad have so much of their farm in vegetative cover most of the year, but I wish they would stop growing soybeans. If the market for organic milk would grow again, we could become organic and thus could change our cows’ rations so that we stop feeding them corn and therefore stop growing it. Jesse has transferred a lot of the farmland into pasture and manages it intensively so the cows do not overgraze – bird life has increased on the farm since he began shifting to more pasture land. 

Onward, I weaved between trees, stepping over, under and around branches. I walked across some fallen logs. The woods comfort me, though on this walk I felt intensely alone. I love my solitude, but I enjoy time with Jesse that isn’t doing farm work or just watching TV and miss it. I felt incredibly isolated, I desired to share these woods with someone dear and who would enjoy them as much as I. It has been awhile since I have had a niece come hiking with me. And I miss two of my brothers who sandwich me in age; I am still adjusting to living on this farm where too often I feel this loneliness. It may seem pathetic but the ten miles separating me from my mom, brothers (and their wives) seems unbearably distant – the four of us have gone through so much together, overcoming trauma after trauma. I also prefer working on their farm where I spend most of the time outside in the gardens, feeling the dirt between my toes, not in a barn milking far too many mean cows. I have been working over there roughly three times a week but for most of the summer, two of those days I had to rush home to milk cows. Gardening at Mom’s used to be work, but now it is a solace. 

I gazed up into the tree canopy, taking in the underside of the large basswood leaves. On young trees they appear comically huge. I took in the sand and limestone outcroppings being colonized by moss and ferns, grateful for the splendor of the various exposed rocks in these woods. I followed coyote tracks along these rocks one winter. I relish the beautiful maples, some of yellow leaves, others pink. I observe mushrooms on a birch and on a stump, unsure of what they are other than a crust fungi and a polypore. The ostrich ferns are turning yellowish white. My path was continuously up and downhill. I scrambled up a rock outcropping, perching for a few moments to soak in the forest spreading outward and dropping down the slope beneath me. A gray squirrel rustles in the leaves below. I love this maple grove. And I love this rock with its fallen trees resting upon it. – My brothers and I would have made it into a fort, our imaginations running wild. 

The deer trail once again narrows through slender trees, as it begins to wrap around the bluff. I paused to examine an insect on a paper birch; perhaps a member of the fly order. It was dead. A spider web thread around its head and antennae and leg. A white lump, like a marshmallow, on the ground caught my attention. An aborted entoloma mushroom, although edible and tasty, I left it there. I proceeded through a still predominantly maple forest. An off white, firm mushroom grew on a birch tree – a tinder polypore. It has antibiotic properties and can be used as a firestarter. Neolithic peoples carried it on their wanderings. It also is fun looking, of course, most mushrooms are. Another mushroom protrudes from a birch tree, a middle-aged resinous polypore. A few large eastern white pines dot the bluff side, carpeting the ground with their needles. The bluff drops away below me. 

Across a ravine, I strolled along a man-made trail. I was not happy to see a trail camera, set up by one of the hunters – it makes me feel like I am being watched in my own woods. Mushrooms completely coat a birch log lying to the side of the trail; possibly smoky polypore. I bent down for a closer look at a red-tailed hawk feather. I often hear their piercing cry while I am out walking. I duck under a fallen maple tree. Sometimes I like to climb on it, but today I kept trekking past. 

I left the trail, and began descending the bluff to a ravine that separates this bluff from another. I marveled at exposed bedrock, climbing down the step-like rocks. A pool of leaf filled water sat beneath the stones. I continued ambling down the ravine, climbing down several stages of exposed bedrock. I love this minor rock climbing, down a scree pile. The boulders are covered in deep green moss. I looked up at the incredible rock parapet far above me, feeling small in the grandeur of these bluffs. I scampered up some boulders toward the bottom, on the other side. The bluff slope was so steep, I clung to trees to climb up. Polypores decorating trees and logs again caught my attention, mature resinous polypore. I admired the folds of the beautiful brown mushroom. I paused to take in the dark purple of the hepatica leaves. Wild ginger leaves were turning yellow along the edges. I kept scrambling up the steep bluff, breathless, my calves ached, and yet I felt exhilarated by the effort. I came to another man-made trail and followed it down the bluff a ways, enjoying the autumn colors and taking in the height of these impressive bluffs. 

I veered off the trail to amble up a rocky, steep ravine. I wanted to climb a rock face but recalled no one knew exactly where I was. On top of the bluff, I marveled at the openness beneath the tree canopy, leaves blanketed the ground. I continued westward, sometimes the trial had me walking nearly sideways. The forest floor on the next hillside became densely covered in small plants, some like gooseberry and prickly ash clawed fiercely at my clothing. I took in beautiful paper birch trees, struggled over difficult terrain, and glimpsed the small town of Millville. I halted upon a rocky outcropping with perhaps a thirty foot or more drop off. I rarely come this far so I sat to just soak it in for a while before I continued my long journey back. Leaving with plenty of time to return to the farmstead before the light faded. 

Don’t forget to purchase a copy of each of my books on Amazon – Dandelions https://a.co/d/96sAFHU, Raking Leaves https://a.co/d/fnbusTI, Making Applesauce https://a.co/d/bVbQ7Hw, and Pruning Apple Trees https://a.co/d/3qUIcoV

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