Springer & Katahdin

"When it's late in the evening I go up the hill,

And survey all my kingdom while everything's still.

Only me and the sky and an old whipporwill

Singing songs in the twilight on Mockingbird Hill."

~ Les Paul and Mary Ford: 1951, Lyrics by Vaughn Horton,

"Mutual Of Omaha's Wild Kingdom."  If you are 50 or older, you'll remember a simpler time when you and your sibs, and perhaps a neighbor kid or two, piled around the TV to watch (the original) "Wild Kingdom."  This was our Animal Planet or Discovery Channel.  What a great show.  Living here in rural northeastern Connecticut, though, down a long driveway into the woods, all I need to do is just look out into my backyard to know that I am living in my own little "Wild Kingdom."  Deer, turkeys, foxes, rabits, bobcats (yes, a bobcat!  One snatched up a rabbit.  Circle of life!) and groundhogs abound mixed in, of course, with the ususal critters such as squirrels, chipmunks, snapping turtles and all sorts of birds.  There are times too, around dusk, that I feel as if I am living in an episode of Zoorama.  You remember the show, based in the San Diego Zoo, that started with a whailing or a whoppoing of some sort of creature.  It started low and slow, becoming increasingly louder and faster.  Although I thought this was a bird of sorts, I've since learned that it was a monkey of sorts; a Probiscis monkey I think.  And while there are no Probiscis monkeys in my yard, there is some sort of bird mocking it's call.  I swear!   

If you've read my blog in the past you'll know about the deer in our yard who eat the whole corn (versus cracked corn) that we put out for them.  We have a few generations of them that we've come to recognize.  There is a beautiful buck, around 2 years old and his sister who has a limp when she walks.  Two little bambie types have been stringing along with them for a few months and I believe the one with the limp is the mom.  We all have been captivated watching them saunter down our driveway or on the other side of the stonewall, approaching the feeding trough to see if we've remembered to put the corn out for them.  At times they are sorely dissappointed, I suspect, to find that some of the others have beat them to their feast.  No matter, they'll be back.

I've observed, on many occassions, the 4 of them approaching the trough only to see the buck hanging back a bit, seemingly serving as a lookout, while the others eat all the corn.  He goes to check it once they have had their fill, but alas, they never leave any for him.  Not to worry, there have been several times when I see the buck approach alone and he then proceeds to eat it all himself.  I also know that several of our neighbors put corn out for the deer. 

When the deer are done they walk around the yard grazing and sometimes lying in the shade to nap.  We've been asked whether we have given names to "our" deer but it actually has never occured to me to do so.  After all, they aren't our deer.  They are no more our pets than the wild turkeys are or the chipmunks and rabbits.  We coexist and actually it is we who have invaded their habitat and home.  I can't help but wonder if they have a few "pet" names for us.             

Having said all that, however, I couldn't help but to name the younger ones after watching the antics of these two bambies a few weeks back.  The two have only recently lost all their spots and have begun to roam the area together without their mom and their uncle, the buck, (Uncle Buck-thus named) although I'm sure those other 2 are very close by and keeping an eye on the youngins.  So, the two come sauntering down the yard early one morining and proceed to eat all the corn.  After walking into the front yard to graze for 10 minutes or so they return to the trough, presumably to eat more corn.  There is none.  They walk out front to graze some more and then 10 minutes later they again return to check out the trough.  Empty.  They have learned from their mom and Uncle Buck that when they go to the trough there is corn there to eat.  Now, they are out on their own and alas, this system of acquiring food does not seem to be working. 

"Is there a flaw?  Maybe we haven't waited long enough."

You can only imagine what they are thinking. 

"There is supposed to be corn there.  It always works when we go there with mom and Uncle Buck.  What are we doing wrong?  Well, lets just take a nap in the shade then." 

A few minutes later Uncle Buck saunters down toward the trough and the bambies are quickly on their feet and following him close behind.  "He'll show us how it's done."   

But of course there is no corn there and the three of them saunter back up the driveway and into the woods.

In watching this all play out, I  was reminded of something that I observed years ago.  I would think of this story now and then, telling this ancedote to myself for my own amusement.  My story has to do with laundry and underwear and it goes like this:

"Where does my underwear come from?" is an age old question that small boys and men have been pondering forever.  Men, typically, don't discover the mystery of where their underwear really comes from until they have children.  Whether they are 6, 16 or 36 they are perplexed, but have come to accept, that every time they open their dresser drawer there will be underwear.  Even if they took the last pair the morning before when they open the drawer the next day, surprise, underwear!  How do they do that, the underwear?   Don't question it they think, just shut up - lest you jinx it - and be happy and accept it.

It wasn't until we had our first child and I became increasingly busy with mom and helpless infant things, that my husband finally uncovered the mystery of the underwear.  He knew, correctly, that there had to be an explanation for it and it couldn't be all this "magical thinking."  He now knew where underwear came from and he knew where and how to get it if it wasn't in the drawer when he needed it.  Go to the back room where those 2 big white metal boxes are.  One of them is called a "dryer."  Open it.  Surprise!  Underwear!  Oh thank goodness, mystery solved.  No longer at the mercy of the magic dresser drawer, underwear really comes from the dryer.

I couldn't help but wonder if the bambies had the same sort of magical thinking.  Go to the trough and there will be corn!  Too cute.  Too precious!  These bambies each needed a name now.  No, I do not own these deer.  But it was now clear that they owned me.

I decided that I will call them, Springer and Katahdin.

Disclaimer and Note: 

The underwear story is not meant to be a knock to my husband but rather a knock to me and an admittance by myself that I did not always keep up with things early after the birth of our first child.  And, truth be told and more often than not, if you need underwear in our house today we still need to go to the dryer!

Note:  For those of you who read my blog you know that I am a backcountry hiker wannabe with delusions of hiking the Appalachian Trail some day.  The southern terminus of the trail in Georgia is on Springer Mountain.  The northern terminus in Maine at Baxter Peak is on Mount Katahdin.  It seemed appropriate and only logical to me to name these two deer thusly.

   

 

 

 Missy stands by an empty trough

 Corn Trough

 Uncle Buck & Springer

 Uncle Buck, Springer & Katahdin walking towards the trough

 Uncle Buck (look closely)

 Uncle Buck finally gets to eat

 Uncle Buck stands guard while Springer & Katahdin eat all the corn

 Uncle Buck poses for me

 Mom takes a nap in the shade of the pines

 View from my deck.  Mom by herself

 Springer (plaque)

 Katahdin

Nipmuck Trail

“Then sings my soul…….”

8:15 Sunday morning found me at Wolf Rock in Mansfield.  I had hiked to this spot 2 weeks ago and now I approached it from the other direction on a different section of trail.  I am really enjoying walking on this Nipmuck Trail which is part of the Blue Blaze Trail System in Connecticut.  Since this is not a loop trail and I have no car spotters, I park my car and walk to a pre-determined location and then walk back the way I came.  This suits me fine because on the walk in, when I see all this great stuff and I want to linger a bit, I know I’ll see it on the way back and I’m glad for the second chance to see a certain rock or stream or tree that has caught my eye.

These trails are exactly the “roots and rocks” type of trail that I prefer with slight elevation gains and losses although some are quite steep here and there.  The section that I picked out is only 1.6 miles to my destination and then back for a total of 3.2 miles, which is a bit shorter than the last section which totaled 4 miles.  For my next hike I’ll drive to this same parking area on Clover Mill Rd in Mansfield and I’ll pick up the trail, walking northeasterly rather than southwest.  The access to the various trail sections seem to be spaced out just right so that one can pick up the trail easily enough from almost anywhere.  My goal is to ultimately hike the entire Nipmuck Trail, which, I actually will be hiking twice since I’m covering the same ground area twice each time I hike!  After I complete the Nipmuck I’ll most likely tackle the Shenipsic or the Natchaug Trail.  I have an awesome trail guide book put out by the Connecticut Forest & Park Association for the Blue Blaze trail system in eastern Connecticut.  It’s called the Connecticut Walk Book-East and they also put out one for the “West.”  It actually is a loose leaf 3-ring binder which is great because you can take out the sections that you want and bring them with you.  I always make a copy of the section that I’m doing (I make 2 copies and bring one with me so that the original stays nice and pristine in the book) and highlight it and mark it up in red pen too and then leave it on the kitchen counter for Mike to refer to just in case I don’t return at the specified time.  He says that although he doesn’t look at it, that it is good to have so that all he needs to do is to turn it over to the police if I don’t return in “a day or two or three!!”  Very funny!

 

Up at “The Rock,” I take my pack off and pull out my map to study it.  I really don’t need a map but I like to look at it and I like to pretend that I am on some huge long distance hike, like say; the Appalachian Trail.  (Oh, please don’t get me started.  The AT, 2175 miles, runs from Georgia to Maine and would take me 6 ½ months to hike.  And my trail name will be Whispers.  Oh!!  Some day!)  I rummage through my pack and pull out my breakfast along with a thermos of hot sweet tea and my water bottle.  It is only 30 degrees out and the sun feels good on my back.  As I devour my peanut butter and jelly sandwich I look all around me, turning while standing in place, gawking at the simple beauty of this spot and trying to memorize each rock and tree so that I might recall the images later whenever I please.  I am at a summit of sorts and there is a clear view of the horizon.  Not a 360 degree view but more like 200 degrees.  I can see the woods below where I hiked from 2 weeks ago.  I see fields and farm land.  I am standing on a cliff and the last 2/10’s of a mile were very steep from the direction I hiked to 2 weeks ago.  Today, to get to this same point from the other direction the trail was more gradual.  There is a huge bolder at the top, Wolf Rock, that looks as if it was strategically, if precariously, placed.  But all logic and reason makes us ask why and how!  Actually, this bolder was dragged here by a glacier, deposited in its’ place and left behind when the glacier receded.  The guide book told me that!  Very cool!

Although the view is stunning I am more interested in the immediate surroundings.  The trail worn bare; the ledge, the rocks and the trees.  I realize that this may not sound like much of a view to some people but it really truly speaks to me and, once again, I am so happy to be here in my element. 

Now that I have stopped walking I know that I may soon feel a chill and quickly pull on my polar tech fleece jacket. If you go walking in 30 degree or lower temperatures (or even higher) and you stop for any length of time it is important that you bring another layer to put on when you stop.  Put it on before you feel a chill.  Put it on as soon as you stop! 

I have lingered here for about 10 minutes and it is now time to head back.

The walk back always seems shorter and I’m enjoying it all over again.  Now, having built up enough body heat I stop to remove my outer fleece jacket and then stand still to look and to listen.  The woods are very quiet and still.  I strain my ears to hear any possible sound and I am glad that there is none.  There are no cars that I can hear in the distance or sirens or anything.  The only sound I can hear now is the ringing in my ears and the pounding of my heart.  It is a bluebird day, class I, without a single cloud in the sky.  My eyes are suddenly drawn to a slight movement off a ways to my left and I turn just in time to see a very large chipmunk scurry into a rock wall.  I have seen no other living creatures all morning.  The woods are mine!       

As I continue on I would stop a few more times just to stand still and listen.  Finally, I’m approaching a ridge.  The down slope of this ridge was one of my favorite spots this morning and I am happy to be here although now my hike is almost over as I am about 5 minutes from the trail head.  The trail here is made up of rocks.  Some are like stepping stones that you might see in a stream while most of them are as big as the seat of a table chair and flat-ish on top which makes walking on them easier.  These rocks are worn clean but just on either side of the trail the rocks are covered with a deep green lush moss.  The blue blazes on the trees are faint at best to non existent but it is not difficult to see where to walk.  The trail rocks have a  silvery shimmer and are lined on either side with the moss covered rocks looking much like a green carpet.  I remember thinking on the walk in that the blazes weren’t marked all that well but that all I needed to do was to look at the trail and the way would be obvious.  Three quarters of the way down now I stopped yet again and turned to look at the trail behind me.  On the walk in the sun hadn’t yet cleared the ridge but now, nearly 2 hours later, the sun was high and filtering through the bare trees setting the moss covered rocks all a glow, shimmering and sparkling like emeralds. 

“Then sings my soul.”  This lovely church hymn pops into my head at this sight and I’ve been singing it all week now.  


I've posted the lyrics to How Great Thou Art below for your reading and singing pleasure.  Now if only I could sing.  If I were ever granted 3 wishes my 3^rd wish would be that I could sing from the depths of my soul.

How Great Thou Art

Oh Lord my God
When I, in awesome wonder
Consider all the worlds
Thy hands have made
I see the stars
I hear the rolling thunder
Thy power throughout
The universe displayed

Then sings my soul
My Savior, God, to Thee
How great thou art
How great thou art

The last 2/10’s of a mile back to the trail head consisted of walking over a lovely foot bridge to cross a stream and walking past a few different stonewalls.  There are stonewalls here in the middle of the woods.  Nothing speaks to me more!  It’s hard to imagine that these woods were once all fields and farm land!

I have posted some pics and video below although they really don't do it justice.  You really would have to have to been there.  So, get outside when you can and take it all in!  I highly recommend it!  I hope you enjoyed my post and my pics!

Rail Trail Re-visited on New Year's Day

"The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness."   ~ John Muir

I decided to start the New Year off right and planned a short hike on the Hop River Rail Trail for New Year’s Day!  After some deliberation the night before as to which section to do, I chose the Steeles Crossing to Bolton Notch section.  This is just a very short walk really and is a “rails to trails” trail so of course it’s very flat, wide and well groomed.  I did this section last year and I was looking forward to my reward at the notch; climbing up to the cliffs.

Here follows a very brief trip report.

I arrived at the trailhead at 7:00 AM.  My car was the second one in the lot and within seconds was followed by a third.  It was 31 degrees and plenty bright despite the fact that the sun had not officially risen.  There were no clouds in the sky and I was glad that there was also no wind.  I had layered properly on my upper body, as well as my head and hands, so my core was warm enough but I had failed to wear an insulating layer on my legs.  I knew I’d be ok if I kept up a brisk pace and I didn’t let this unfortunate oversight put a damper on my walk.  I was out on this trail that I love.  There was nowhere else on earth that I would rather have been at that moment.  Nothing could be better.

I started the 2.1 miles to the Notch at a brisk pace.  I was glad to be walking west because I prefer to see the sunrise on the objects that it lights up in the west as it rises in the east.  It starts with an orange glow on the tips of the trees in the distance and soon washes to yellow as the sun rises and creeps down the trunks of the trees.  I had 45 minutes to enjoy this awakening of the day.  I know I have mentioned this in other posts but I’ll say it again; I prefer to walk in the woods in autumn and winter (before the snows, although I enjoy the snow covered woods too) when the trees are bare and I can see deep into the woods.  There is something about seeing the trees and the forest floor that really speaks to me.  It is all so peaceful and so I too feel at peace.

Approaching the tunnel at the Notch now, the ice covered ledge rises high on either side of the trail.  As I stop to look at the trail behind me I am captivated by the droplets on the rock and trees that have caught the rays of the sun just so and are sparkling like diamonds.  I can’t see the sun because it is still low and the ledge is high around me.  I can tell that it is just over the top though and the rays are visible in the rising mist as the frost and ice turns to water and then vapor.  The sight has an ethereal quality and I stare for a moment to commit it to memory.  I know a picture won’t do it justice.  I’m thankful that I stopped to look behind me.  Sometimes it pays to know not only where we’re going but to also see where we’ve been.        

I’ve written about this stretch of trail before and so I’ll skip it now so as not to bore my readers to tears.  I’ll try to briefly conclude my trip report.

I soon found my way up the side trail to the top of the cliffs at the Notch.  I have posted a few pictures taken from my iphone that somewhat capture my view.  Look in the background of the cliff pictures and see the “Y.”  This is where Rte 6 & 44 split off to the right and route 384 begins here to the left.  On the other side of this cliff the American flag is painted and you can see it from route 384 heading east.  I did not get near the edge to verify this but I have seen it from the highway.  I also took a few pictures of the trail.  As you approach the Notch there is a significant increase in the number of birches which I have tried to capture in one of the pictures.

Once I was up on the cliffs I took my pack off and pulled out my water bottle.  I drank about 16 oz.  I also enjoyed a banana.  It was still fairly cold and I knew I couldn’t linger for too long as I didn’t want to risk getting a chill.  I think that perhaps next time I will drive straight to the trailhead right here at the Notch and climb this side trail to the cliffs.  I will spend my time up here, rather than walking on the trail, exploring these surroundings.  There appear to be quite a lot of laurel bushes up here and some paths leading to; I don’t know where.  I’d love to find out.  It’s really a beautiful spot.  I’ll bring my jetboil stove and make coffee next time too.

For me, this was the perfect way to start my year.  It was a total of 4.5 miles including the side trail up to the cliffs.  I was back to the car by 9:15 just as it was starting to warm up.  I should also say that I met 4 groups of people and a total of 4 dogs!  I do enjoy meeting people on the trail and I especially love meeting their dogs!

Moonshadow & Meteor Showers

“Now I’m being followed by a moonshadow….”    ~Cat Stevens     

Why do I always hydrate at night?  Actually, I keep myself pretty well hydrated all day so it shouldn’t come as any great surprise to me when I need to get up at 2 or 3 or 4 in the morning to, “water the porcelain,” as a friend of mine might say.  I’m always grateful to be up though, as it gives me an opportunity to look out the window, to gaze outdoors which is where I really long to be.    

Last night’s full moon rose at 4:30PM and set at 7:03AM.  The 2 sliders in the corner of my kitchen, facing east and north, allow for a great view of it when it rises and this time of year, with the leaves off the trees, it is particularly pleasing to me to see the moon through the silhouetted trees.  There is just something very appealing about it, something very calming.  The bare branches of the trees against the sky and the moon high and bright in the sky are stunning by themselves but when the moon is still low and shinning through the trees, it’s just beautiful.     It was an extremely clear night.  I had to pull myself away from the kitchen sliders when I realized I’d been standing there, just staring at the moon through the trees for more than a few minutes.  Can’t stand there all night, after all.  Would that I could though; would that I could!   

So when I woke in the night, closer to morning actually at around 4:30 I think, I found myself again looking outside, staring out the bathroom window.  My window faces NNE and the moon would have been in the west, getting low in the sky, 2 ½ hours before it would be dipping below the horizon.  Although I couldn’t see the moon directly, it cast long magnificent shadows of the trees in my backyard.  It was so bright out, yet the sky still dark with twinkling stars.  Objects outside were eerily illuminated as in some sort of surreal fairy tale or dream.  The clear moonlit sky with the grass and stonewalls so brightly lit, really made the long shadows of the trees just jump right out.  Immediately upon looking outside at this spectacular sight, I said out loud to myself; “moonshadow!”  And I have had this Cat Stevens song in my head ever since!  Good thing I like Cat Stevens.  Gotta love the Cat!     

Now, a few days later, as I continue to write this post I am still “leaping and hopping on a moonshadow.”  I much prefer this new tune than the last one that I had stuck in my head! 

I had forgotten to mention that there was a lunar eclipse on the night of the full moon.  This would have been in the western sky in “the wee small hours of the morning” on Saturday 12/10.  I had gotten my dates mixed up and thought it was going to be the following night and so I missed it.  My big sis in Seattle (ok, actually she lives in Ellensburg which is 90 minutes east of Seattle but really, doesn’t saying “sis in Seattle” just sound better?!  Sorry Bon!) said that we in the northeast wouldn’t have been able to see it anyway.  And when I talked to my son in Cambridge, who studied Astrophysics and has a master’s degree in physics, he said, “what eclipse?”  Apparently this lunar eclipse wasn’t such a big deal but I still sure would like to have seen it.  I saw one last year which was pretty cool.  The moon doesn’t disappear in the earth’s shadow but rather, it turns this pale orange color which is really spooky to see and so out of place when the moon is up high in the sky.  When the moon is low and rising it often appears orange which is what you’d expect, though.  Lunar eclipses aren’t that rare and of course there is the famous eclipse on the night the Red Sox won the World Series in 2004.  I guess that’s what the Sox needed; the sun and earth and moon to align just right in order for them to win and break the curse of the Bambino.  Done and done!

This brings to mind the solar eclipse I saw with my family in 1972.  It was in the summer and I was 15.  We traveled alot in the summers because my Dad was a teacher and had the summers off.  We had a school bus that he converted into a most excellent camper.  So we drove out to P-town on the Cape where we would be in the penumbra of the eclipse; not quite “total” from our view point but totally awesome.  The total eclipse could be seen in Nova Scotia.  This is the eclipse made famous in the Carly Simon song, “You’re So Vain.”   You know it: “Then you flew your Learjet up to Nova Scotia to see the total eclipse of the sun.”  Additionally, in Steven King’s “Delores Claiborne,” which was set and filmed in Nova Scotia, Delores Claiborne (played by the incomparable Kathy Bates) famously leads her husband to a trap where he falls down a deep abandoned well, during this very same total eclipse, and leaves him there to die.  The incestuous bastard really deserved it.  (Have you seen the movie?)  I do like the actor who played the character though and I love Kathy Bates.  And I like the famous line, “sometimes being a bitch is all a woman has to hang on to,” and, “sometimes an accident can be an unhappy woman’s best friend.” 

Anyway, the eclipse that my sisters, Mom and Dad and I witnessed was an unbelievable sight.  As the light began to fade I remember birds flitting about, as if caught off guard and unprepared, hurrying to nest for the “night.”  I remember shadows from trees and telephone poles and other objects, taking on odd shapes.  When the sun is low, near to setting, shadows grow long of course.  But, the sun was high in the sky and it was a clear day; no clouds.  So when the moon began to pass in front of the sun, I just remember noticing how odd the shadows were and how different the light seemed.  The light was fading quickly, to near black, from directly above rather than from the horizon and resulting effect was like nothing else I had ever seen before.  It was breath taking.  Although I hadn’t thought about this in a long time, I remember this now today, nearly 40 years later, so clearly, as if it were just yesterday.  I remember the gulls screeching, the breeze in the air, the warmth of the sun, my sisters and all the other folks who gathered, craning their necks to see the sun disappear overhead and the magnificent corona created by the eclipse. 

If you ever get the opportunity to see such an event, I highly recommend it.      

Now this brings me to Tuesday night; 12/13/11.  I was thrilled when I realized that I would be treated to the Geminids meteor shower and that I wouldn’t have to drag myself out of bed at 3 AM to see it.  I could go out at 9 or 10.  Perfect!  I had, in past years, dragged myself out of bed to bear witness to such events, only to be disappointed by overcast skies or to find that I had somehow managed to arrive too late for the party and there was nothing to see.  Tuesday night was a clear gorgeous night.  I was under the mistaken impression that I had to view the meteors in the eastern sky.  Well, I have a view to my east but not in the lower sky, only up higher.  I didn’t know exactly where in the east to look so I decided to hop in my car and drive the 2 ½ miles down the road where I knew I could see the entire eastern sky with no obstructions.  I drove down Flanders Rd and pulled over just opposite of the field where the cows are, put on my flashers and hopped out of the car.  I used the compass on my IPhone to be sure I was looking east and I was.  It wasn’t cold out at all.  Maybe 40 degrees.  It was about 9 o’clock now.

I should say here that for the past few nights, prior to this, I had been enjoying the moon rises and the bright moonlight, as I had earlier written.  This very bright moon created a problem Tuesday night.  Moon rise was at 7:32 PM and now, at 9, not only was this big beautiful orb smack in the middle of my viewing field; it was washing out the entire eastern sky.  The stars were so faint on this moonlit night that I wondered whether or not I would be able to see meteors.  After looking into the sky for 10 minutes or so with no luck, I decided to head back.  I had no regrets.  The night was absolutely gorgeous.  I could have stayed out for hours.

When I pulled back into my driveway I checked the news article about the Geminids on my IPhone.  It turns out that the meteors would be visible in any part of the sky not just in the east.  You see, it pays to read the whole article and not just skim.  Lesson learned.  I got out of the car, leaning my back against it now and looking toward the southern part of the night sky.  I immediately saw my first “shooting star.”  It lasted no longer than one second and was just a streak.  I   kept watching and saw another.  Now I’m hooked.  The Geminids, though, promised to be a show of big fireballs with visible flames streaking across the sky for several seconds at a time and with huge magnificent tails trailing behind.  My youngest son told me of such a meteor he saw a few months back.  I watched patiently, hopeful and excited now.  I wanted my fireball.

Six, seven, eight “shooting stars” but no fireballs.  Oh well.  It had only been 10 minutes and I realized that the near full moon that I had worshipped all week was just not going to let this spectacular show unfold.  I loved seeing the meteors, though.  I mean, on an ordinary night when I am just looking at the sky and I happen to see a shooting star, I am just thrilled beyond words.  It’s just so exciting.  And now I’ve just seen 8! 

I decided to call it a night, hopeful now that at least 1 of my 8 wishes would come true.   

Magical Moments

Author’s Note:  I wrote this nearly 20 years ago to the day, inspired by my son to do so.  I think of it as a love letter to my son.  I never showed it to him or anyone until the day he left for college.  I realized that since I wrote this for him that I’d better give it to him so I put it an envelope and tucked it away with his things for college.  After getting him all moved into his dorm, I told him I had left a letter in an envelope for him and to wait to read it ‘till after I had left.  I later had it “published,” anonymously, in my town’s monthly magazine and 2 other towns that had similar monthly magazine.  The editor told me that she had been moved to tears when she read my work and she urged me to put my name to it.  I’m not sure why I didn’t.  At any rate, if you are a parent I think that this will resonate with you.  I have also written a story for my youngest son but it still needs tweaking.  I hope you enjoy this.  Please post a comment to let me know! 

“The love between a mother and child knows no bounds.”   

We’re laughing as we hurry up the front porch steps and into the kitchen filling it with the scents of cold, crisp, smoky air.  These traces of winter will soon give way to the aroma of freshly baked cookies.  Chocolate chip, butterscotch and oatmeal.  I rush over to the stove, turning on the oven and he hangs up his coat on the lower hook in the corner of the kitchen by the door.  We sit down at the kitchen table to catch our breath.  It’s not that we’re in a hurry, but rather, filled with excitement and anticipation and anxious to began the next part of our annual tradition on this Christmas Eve night; the baking of Christmas cookies for Santa.  I secretly think of it as the making of magical moments for my son and me. 

Our cookies won’t be the fancy holiday kind baked in anticipation of seasonal guests.  In fact, these cookies aren’t fancy at all and so rarely does anyone ever visit.  These are special cookies nonetheless, baked with much love and care for someone who we know will be making a stop at our home on a very busy and magical night.  

Having just come from the candle light service at church, the first part of our tradition, the tune of Silent Night is still in our heads and we find ourselves singing it out loud together.  I turn on the Christmas lights on the tree and the star, blinking a silent code-like rhythm above us like a beacon, is lighting up candy canes, wooden horses, glass ornaments and homemade snowflakes all strategically placed by 5-year old hands on the lower branches of the tree.  The TV is on in the living room but we don’t hear it as we go about our work in the kitchen.  We’re singing Christmas carols and we giggle as we sing a little off key.  I make up the words here and there when I’ve forgotten them.  As I tell my son that these are  made up words now and that I promise to find out the actual correct words, he looks up at me through deep blue eyes that were his great grandfather’s.  Eyes that, only moments ago, were beaming with excitement, are piercing now and puzzled.  How could it be that I don’t know the words when he’s always believed that I know everything?  Slowly, he’s catching on to me and I tell that there are a few things that I don’t know after all!  He smiles when I tell him this.  His love for me is as pure and unconditional as mine is for him; as only there can be between a mother and a child.  I give him a wink as our eyes meet and his face lights up the room.  This signal we share; unspoken yet just as loud and urgent as the church bells that beckon to me on Sunday mornings, strengthens the bond between us in a way that words, so inadequate and limiting, never could.  A wink; so simple yet significant.  So fleeting!  I savor this moment, already now a memory.  I cherish this night, so magical in so many ways. 

Three cookies and a carrot sit, lovingly arranged by my son, on a saucer on the hearth alongside a cold glass of milk.  I put two of the cookies back and take several bites out of the third before placing it back on the saucer and I drink three quarters of the milk.  I break off a large piece of the carrot and put it away in the fridge.  I nibble around the remaining end of the carrot and place it on the saucer with the cookie.   

It is well after midnight now as I tip toe up the stairs and look in on my son on my way to bed, as I’ve done every night for the past 5 ½ years.  As he lay there sleeping, looking so precious and small in his big bed, I listen to him breathing and I already know how truly blessed I am.  I can’t help but wonder how many more magical moments we’ll share.  I know eventually that he’ll prefer the company of his friends rather than the company of his mother, as well he should.  I press me lips gently to his forehead, so cool and smooth, and as I close my eyes and breathe in the scent of his hair I say a prayer thanking God for my son and entrusting me with his childhood.  I pray for patience, guidance and wisdom in the years ahead and I pray for the strength to let him go when the time comes.  And finally, I pray that he’ll remember our moments together even long after I’m a memory, and that perhaps he’ll be inspired to make magical moments with his own child someday.  But for now, the timer on the coffee pot is set for 6:00 AM and as I climb into bed, I’m looking forward to more magical moments in the morning. 

Of Loss and the Luxury To Cry

“When I said I needed you, you said you would always stay.” ~ Dusty Springfield

Disclaimer: This post strays away from my backyard nature theme. So for those of you expecting that, you may want to stop reading here because you will be sorely disappointed. I’ve seen other blogs where they have categories but that always seemed too confusing for me, although I’ve thought about it. Instead, I’ll just post a disclaimer when I write “off topic” from time to time. This post has to do with thoughts and feelings and emotions and stuff of a more personal nature I’d say. So, please be forewarned and if you still decide to read, well – you can’t whine afterwards about how you feel ripped off. I mean, come on, let’s be fair! We’re all adults here. (Aren’t we?) Ok, last chance --- you’ve been duly warned.

So, I was driving in my car by myself the other night and I put in my new favorite CD. This is the Shelby Lynn CD which is a tribute to Dusty Springfield. If you do not know who that is --- well, now that just makes me sad and you are not the person I thought you were. Kidding aside, if you Google Dusty Springfield you will immediately see that you do know who she is and that you do recognize some of the songs listed. However, as an extra added bonus I am including a YouTube link of Dusty below for your listening pleasure. And this is the song I’m referring to below. You have to wait and read this first. Those are the rules. We are on the honor system here and I expect you all to abide. (“The Dude abides.”)

Continuing -- I advance the CD to track 3 just as I have been doing for about a week now when I have the opportunity to be by myself in the car. (Unfortunately, this is rare) Well Shelby Lynn no sooner sings the first few lyrics and I am sobbing like a baby. OK, actually I only wish I were balling like a baby. I only have 5 minutes to myself here (running out for milk) so I can’t really show up at the store like this or back home. I have to stop myself – pull myself together – and save my cry for another day, as usual. One of these days I’m going to have myself a good old fashioned cry – I’ve been waiting for years now. Does anyone out there know what I mean? I mean, I am by nature an upbeat positive type of person, but there are sadnesses in life and if you don’t acknowledge them and deal with them and give in to them – they are going to come back when you least expect it and surface and suddenly you are sobbing like a crazy person in public. Now, this hasn’t happened to me yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

I really could use a week (or, 6-7 months) in the woods all by myself so I can amply allow myself this luxury to cry. I’d like to be able to just let it all out if and when it surfaces, instead of stifling my feelings – putting them up on a shelf for another time – compartmentalizing it all to deal with later. Do any of you out there know what I mean? It’s not that I’m feeling blue either. Rainy days and Mondays do not get me down. There are very specific things that I’d like to cry about. Mostly my sadnesses are for other people who I know have had tremendous losses in their lives. Their loved ones have passed on, in many cases much too soon, and in some cases very tragically, and I think about them - their losses – and how they must feel and that just makes me oh-so-sad. So, every now and then a certain song plays and it’s not necessarily that the lyrics speak to what my “issues” are, there’s just that sort of pathos. The song evokes a certain sadness which makes me think of the sad things that I’ve put away on my shelf.

Did you know that when you cry – if you are alone, well – it’s just not as, for lack of another word – productive, than if you had someone with you to comfort you and let you cry. (That’s why I need 6 months in the woods instead of 1 week, it’s gonna take me longer) You know, I always suspected that. I came to know that this is true because of a dream I had. Several years back – maybe 6-8 years ago – I had a dream. In the dream I was sobbing like a baby, almost inconsolable. I remember afterwards that it wasn’t that there was nothing specific that I was sobbing about, but in my dream it was not clear why or what I was sobbing about. But it was so real. It was clear that it was something specific, but it was just not revealed to me what it was. Well, there was someone who came to me, as I sat there beside a brook weeping, and the person consoled me. It was clear that I knew who the person was. In my dream it was someone I knew, although in reality I have no idea who that was. Dreams are funny like that. So, the person just wrapped their arms around me and let me cry and cry. When I awoke, I felt oddly ok, as if I had just, well - had a good cry. I hadn’t felt particularly sad prior to that. The dream was so vivid and so real though and the feelings were so real. When I thought about this dream in the days and weeks and even months that followed, I could recall once again the feelings of sobbing (not just sobbing, but the feelings and emotions behind all this sadness – you know - the mourning, the grieving, the remorse) and of being comforted. I must have had too much sadness stacked up on my shelf. I’m glad they didn’t come crashing down – landing me in some sort of loony bin or something -- because I’m fine. I really am. I am not some sort of basket case. But, at any rate, when I think of the dream now, I can remember that one little “scene” but I do not feel any of those emotions that were so reaI. Guess I’m about due for another dream.

If you click on the link below, (scroll down - after the lyrics) you will be directed to a YouTube of Dusty Springfield singing “You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me.” As much as I like Shelby Lynn, I love Dusty’s original - 1000 times more. Her voice is so haunting --- particularly since she, too, passed away – way too soon. This makes it all that much sadder. Oh!! (Don’t even get me started on Karen Carpenter.) So – read the lyrics, listen to the song and have yourself a good cry – on me. (“You’re welcome.”) Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me
~ Dusty Springfield

When I said I needed you. You said you would always stay.

It wasn't me who changed but you. And now you've gone away.

Don't you see That now you've gone. And I'm left here on my own.

That I have to follow you. And beg you to come home?

You don't have to say you love me. Just be close at hand. You don't have to stay forever. I will understand.

Believe me, believe me. I can't help but love you. But believe me I'll never tie you down..

Left alone with just a memory. Life seems dead and so unreal. All that's left is loneliness.

There's nothing left to feel.

You don't have to say you love me. Just be close at hand. You don't have to stay forever,

I will understand. Believe me, believe me.

You don't have to say you love me. Just be close at hand . You don't have to stay forever I will understand.

Believe me, believe me, believe me (Click on YOUTUBE below)

YouTube - Dusty Springfield - You Don't Have To Say You Love Me (Original Stereo)

Fresh Coffee, Running Shoes and Owls

"Just Do It" ~~~ Nike

Finally! Out the door at 6AM this morning (Tuesday) for a walk/run, by myself (No Missy). I’m almost tricked into thinking that I am actually out early because it is still dark and the sun won’t rise for another hour. But I know it is really not all that early and I’m trying for an hour earlier on Thursday since all went well today (walking in the dark). Of course, I’ll explain.

Coffee in hand (not in a “to go” mug, but a real mug – 16 oz porcelain mug with a picture of a Golden retriever on it – now that’s a cup of coffee!) I was anxious to get out the door. My coffee machine with the timer on it broke a while ago and I’ve been using the backup melitta which you actually have to boil the water and pour it. (I know, I know – how hard is that!?) It’s really not a big deal, but the coffee used to be ready for me when I got up; pour it and go. Although I got up at 5:45, I’m waiting and waiting for the water to boil. We’ve decided, though, that the coffee tastes pretty good using this melitta drip system – I’d forgotten. I still grind the coffee fresh though. Ok, for those inquiring minds: milk (whole or 2% - not cream and not half’n’half), no sugar, and a bit on the light side! Thanks for wondering! Oh, and no designer coffee for me – just good ole rich Columbian whole beans – 100% Arabica!

So, I’m 20 feet up the driveway and I realize I’d better go back for the reflective mesh vest that I’ll just throw on over my jacket. I mean, I’m dressed all in black and I really don’t want to be hit by a sleepy driver who is in a hurry to get to work! Oh – here’s the best part – I am using my very cool headlamp. Yeah, I know! I look like I’m going down into a coal mine. The thing works pretty good and I’ve used it a lot while outside at night with Missy --- when she has to go one last time. I always pick up after her right away (in fact, when we walk to the park – I’m carrying the darn “pooper scooper”) and in the dark, I don’t want to miss anything. I know – too much info, huh?

Finally “up top” at the road (my driveway is 2/10’s of a mile), I stop to gulp down the last bit of coffee and I place the cup on the stonewall there to retrieve on my way down. It is 6:11 – yikes! Later than I intended. No worries, I’m on my way. I’m doing a 4 mile loop counter clockwise, so I set off going right (west) out of my driveway.

Although the sun won’t be rising for another 50 minutes or so the dawn will be breaking in 10 minutes more or less. I did a little research on-line last year and learned about the 3 different types of “twilight.” I always thought that the word “twilight” was used only while making reference to the evening hours around sunset. But what I learned was that it refers to the point at which the sun is so many degrees below the horizon – evening or morning. The three types of twilight are, civil, nautical and astronomical. When the sun is 6 degrees below the horizon, this is known as civil twilight. Nautical – 12 degrees below and astronomical, the sun is 18 degrees below the horizon. We all know that it gets light out prior to the sun’s official rising time. So, depending on the skies – clear, cloud covered, overcast, etc. – we see it beginning to get light as much as 45 – 50 minutes prior to sunrise, during the tail end of nautical twilight and on into civil twilight. So, the dawn breaks well before sunrise (that’s my interpretation of “dawn”) and when people say, (OK, people don’t really talk this way – but in the movies do- - so--) “I’ll be there at first light” – that’ll be at least 45 minutes before the sun comes up.

I hope I haven’t bored you all yet!

It was 32 degrees and overcast – perfect. I hadn’t worn my running shoes in a long time and it felt great to have them on. I walked briskly with my headlamp - on the least bright of the 3 settings – angled to shine way up ahead of me. There was a bit of a glow in the sky due to the “light pollution” on the cloud cover and I could see fine in front of me while I walked. I heard an owl off somewhere to the right of me. How delightful! I hadn’t heard that familiar hoot in a long while and then I realized that it’s because I haven’t been sleeping with my windows open in a while. You know --- due to it being 10 degrees out at night! (Or, actually, maybe they fly to warmer parts in the winter. Now I’ll have to refer back to my Roger Tory Peterson Bird Guide of Birds of the Eastern US) In the summer there is quite a chorus of owls at night and I sometimes lay awake listening to the orchestra. I’m looking forward to that time of year again. The owls are just ending their day now, going back to their owl homes to sleep and as I hear another owl off to my left and then more – back and forth – I can’t help but wonder if they are calling goodnight to each other. (Good night John Boy).

In another 15 minutes or so these upbeat, assertive - and somehow, mystical -- hoots, would fade and in their place would come the haunting and sorrowful cry of the mourning dove.

Turning left onto Cross St, near the Green, I am able to do without my headlamp and I shove it in my pocket. Not quite light yet, but now there are street lights and a sidewalk of sorts that runs all the way past the Robertson school to South St. I look for the horses to my right but they are not out of their barn yet. Oh well.

It is 6:35 as I turn left onto South Street and now, after 1 ½ miles – with 2 ½ more to go – my brisk walk turns into a slow jog. This is faster than the walk – but I am running very slowly. It’s been a while and I’d like to start out easy. Nothing to prove here - just me and the road. The road is happy to have me back on my familiar route and is non judgmental about my pace. Now, here’s a weird thing; when I run I over pronate (it’s got to do with the way you land on the heel of your foot and roll off your toes) and as I look down at me feet as they meet the pavement, I look almost pigeon toed. What is up with that?

This section of South Street is long, straight and flat and I love running here because of the scenery. Off to the south, on my right, there is a view of a valley and hills beyond. Then there is the gorgeous Arabian horse farm that was just recently redone and although the horses are not out as I pass, there is something about the fence that runs along the road and the plantings there that are so aesthetically pleasing. Up ahead on my left I am approaching a new home that is a reproduction cape with an ell and a barn. Simply stunning. It’s so “New England” complete with stone walls and fences.

I hear the mourning doves now. It is fairly light and other birds are beginning to sing and fly about. Squirrels are playing tag on the trees and the air smells fresh with hints of spring. I am happy to be out here among it all.

I come to the place on South Street at the corner where the road takes a sharp 90 degree turn and heads north – downhill. Just before this corner, on the left, is Dan Manley’s house. This is the house he grew up in and I remember going there once or twice for a Drama Club rehearsal --- I think. Around the corner – all downhill from here – Pucker Street is on the right. There is a view of Uconn and valleys and hills beyond. Nice! The dogs are not out yet at the house on the left. Usually they run along the boundary of their yard barking. There are about 4 of them and I think they just want to play. They never come into the street. But, at any rate, it is early still and they are not out. In the summer, when I run along this stretch the air is always filled with the scent of wild grapes!

At the end of South St I turn left onto Flanders Rd. It is 6:55. Good. I’m making good time with 6/10’s of a mile to go to the mail box at the top of my driveway on High Street. I run past the house on my left where there is a goat and a Shetland pony in the yard, behind the stone wall and I call out “good morning” to them in a high, soft, sing-song voice that one reserves for animals and babies.

Soon I am at the stop sign at the bottom of the hill. Flanders Rd ends here, but High Street picks up and continues uphill. Snake Hill Rd is to the right. My mail box, where my coffee cup awaits on the stone wall there, is 2 ½ 10ths of a mile ahead. I’ve stopped running now but will continue on walking briskly up the steep 20% grade. I actually feel quite good. I am neither winded nor tired. However, because I know my limits, I have run accordingly – which is really at a crawl. I do not have it in me to push myself as I know I would be sorry if I did. In past years I would take the hill – running, pushing myself on. In past years my pace would be about a 9:30 mile, which was good for me – compared to me, not anyone else. So now, compared to myself, I am slow (it’ll be 1 hour to cover the 4 miles!) but I’m just starting out and I know I will feel strong again. I guess that’s the thing really. It’s not how fast I can run the 4 miles – who cares about that. I don’t. It’s the feeling of being so fit and strong and running up hills and sprinting if I want because I can and it feels great. And, this was not that long ago. So that’s what I’m working on getting back. And I know I can do it. And I know I will.

But, as I walked up the hill now, I wondered, why oh why (oh why) did I get away from this great fitness regiment? Excuse upon excuse and then more excuses still come to mind. Obstacles, road blocks! No more! I’m back. I feel great and I love getting out while it’s still dark so I can see the world slowly come alive.

I grab my coffee cup from the stone wall and walk the last 2/10ths of a mile down my driveway.

Author's Note - Update: As this goes to press now (Oh, who am I kidding and why do I talk this way?) I must mention that I ran again today and plan on getting out again tomorrow. Today the sky was completely clear -- the stars were shining. It was gorgeous. I was out the door earlier -- at 5:30 - nice! There were no owls or mourning doves today! Weird. It was getting light up on South St, just after 6:00. It was a whole different twilight due to the clear crisp atmosphere! Really really nice.