![]() I love how the snow illuminates the ground in winter. Whether there's a moon out or not, nighttime just doesn't feel so dark with a layer of white on it. It draws me out for one more walk before I crawl into bed - one more chance to smell the cold and be part of the deep silence of the blanketed landscape. When it's completely dark out and Lily has been under the impression that her day was done, she is so jazzed to see me grab my down parka off the hook, slip on my boots, hat, headlamp, and gloves and open the door. She wiggles her little butt and prances in the snow, looking back over her shoulder with her doggie smile and happy eyes. For Lily, there's just nothing like a night walk... I always grab my bearspray - not for the bears who are sleeping during the winter cold, but for the cougars. And I tie a thick scarf around my neck figuring that if a cougar were to jump me from behind the way they do when making a kill, the thick scarf might keep its teeth from reaching my spinal cord. I take a ski pole too, to beat a cat off, but then again, that's all probably naive. If a cougar really wanted to eat me, it would have no trouble. Life's a crapshoot at best, so I walk into the night. The scents left by passing animals slow Lily's pace and I pause while she investigates. This walk isn't just for me and besides, I like to keep her near me not only for my own sake, but for hers. She is only 34 pounds - bite-sized. We follow the road, walking past neighbors who have already turned in for the night. An occasional porch light shines on the branches above us and casts a cone of white on the snowy road, a reading light glows through a window, but no one stirs. It is just Lily and me. Years ago, when I used to live on my homestead, just shy of a mile up a trail, I did a lot of night walking. It was built in - the only way from here to there - the way we wanted our reality to be - so I miss it. After a day in town, my daughter and I used to park the car at the trailhead, load ourselves up with groceries and school books and such, strap on snowshoes then tromp through the night to our cabin. Loaded up it took us twenty-five minutes. As tired as we might have been or as bent out of shape as our daily interactions with the world may have made us, we inevitably slipped back into the calmness of the forest reality. Step by step my daughter and I reunited with the peaceful rhythm that we humans in developed countries have so effectively whittled away from our lives. By having to hike in we intentionally inserted nature's frequency into every hour of our day so we wouldn't forget or get cut off from it. I don't really understand why we humans are inclined to separate ourselves from the rich and invigorating energy emanating off this planet, but we have a penchant for it - we build buildings and ride in cars, we watch TV and wear earbuds that stream constant sound into our brains in order to block out the world we have created. I don't do the TV or earbud thing but I no longer live up a trail and if I'm not paying attention, I can easily let the comfort of a warm house, hot running water, and electricity insulate me from the world of wind and snow and darkness. I guess that's why I keep reconciling myself with my fear of the cougar. Night walking stretches me just past my comfort threshold and opens me up to something beautiful.
8 Comments
Mary Lynne Jones
1/10/2016 08:09:12 am
So beautiful. I feel the same way when I'm on the beach. I can't understand how people can spend the day with ear buds in. I can listen to the crash of the waves forever. You have such a gift. Thank you for sharing.
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1/10/2016 10:44:18 am
Hi Mary Lynne! You are so right! The ocean does the same for me. Mikaela and I hiked six miles along the ocean in Northern California once, walking on the harder sand right at the edge of where the water laps onto the shore. By the 2nd day the rhythm of the swells became a meditation and paced our steps. Pretty soon our thoughts melded into that reality. What a joy. Nice to hear from you!
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1/10/2016 11:32:57 am
Randi, that was exquisite. It brought back many memories of you that I have stored away, all those years when you lived in the back country. Even when quite pregnant you were undaunted by the hike into your cabin every evening after work. You have loved walking in the night for as long as I have known you. Your writing was so beautifully descriptive and brought me with you step by step. I could feel your frosty breath in the air and feel the tingling of the cold on your face. I think this is one of your most beautiful pieces. Keep writing. I love your stories, and I love you!
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1/10/2016 04:31:59 pm
Hi Candy! You sure shared time on the trail with me! Coming up when Mikaela was a wee babe. It was a remarkable lifestyle. In whichever kind of places we inhabit we figure out how to meet those deep-seated needs that inhabit us,. Watching all the changes you and I have each made in our lives...we still succeed in staying tuned into what moves us. Let's talk soon!
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Theresa Hahn
1/10/2016 02:43:21 pm
Randi you have expressed your thoughts so well! I too enjoyed walking in the evenings with my "puppies"! It was a comfort and serene to me especially in the snow with the shine of the moon! It brought me closer to my God! Thank you!
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1/10/2016 04:36:29 pm
Hi Theresa. We miss seeing your smiling face and calm presence at Cory's! But based on your FB posts it looks like you made the right change. Juan and I are happy for you!
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1/10/2016 04:27:17 pm
Hi Marisela! Yes, I know you love your night walks! You are the champion of them. I really enjoyed my dark morning walk when I stayed at your home. Precious peace for sure. Thanks for reading! Love you!
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