This will probably end up looking a lot like the previous post (about climbing a mountain). That's because walking in the woods gives me inspiration, or at least something more interesting to write about. Or it might end up looking like a somewhat snarky, very public journal entry that no one really wants to read.
Yesterday was a day off from any sort of nocturnal Shakespeare related shenanigans, and as such was a day of relaxation. For me, safely housesitting in a remote part of Vermont, that meant straightening things up, doing dishes, and cleaning. Yes, for me cleaning is relaxing and I genuinely enjoy it. Why? I wish I knew, but I count it as a blessing rather than the alternative. After the cleaning was done I took a jaunt through a marsh with Scout (who is a dog, in case you had any doubt) and got to bed at a reasonably early hour. So it was that I awoke early (though not as early as usual) this morning. It's nice being able to sleep for a nice long bit of time.
Upon waking I promptly made tea and settled down to watch a couple episodes of Doctor Who (half way through season 4 for anyone who cares). That done, feeling a bit fat after eating left-over pancakes and maple butter, I took my book for a walk. If you've never tried walking with a book I recommend it. Assuming one is not the type of person who frequently trips over one's own feet walking and reading is a fun, (somewhat) productive form of exercise. I find that if I read while sitting around I get all fidgety, so walking is the perfect fix.
After finishing the book I decided that yet another walk was needed. Longer this time, and perhaps accompanied by my iPod. Scout was all for the idea so we set out with no particular destination in mind and although I love music I soon shut the 'Pod off. Walking in nature is better when you can hear the world around you.
The path took us out through the woods until, seeing an area off the trail that was attractively clear of undergrowth, we veered off. We went up for a bit, then down into a river of ferns so thick that I couldn't see where I was walking. Had it been a river of water I would've drowned, or at least ended up swimming as I stepped off a ledge and fell a good few feet down into the ferns. Then there was a similar river of blackberry and raspberry bushes (luckily devoid of sudden drops).
At last I found what I had been unknowingly looking for. An isolated beaver pond in the middle of nowhere. Pristine, undisturbed by man. Or that's how it seems at first. Then you look up at the horizon and realize that the mountainside across the way has two wind turbines that dwarf even the tallest trees around them. It's somewhat eerie to see them standing there, silent, like two massive giants frozen in place. Then you forget about the turbines as a several herons rise from their nests and take wing across the pond.
By the side of the pond was a little canoe, just big enough for one person and some gear. In this case the "gear" was Scout. I'd been to the pond a few times but I wasn't very sure about taking Scout out in the boat. Still, I wasn't really surprised when she jumped in and lay down very nicely in the bow of the canoe while I knelt behind the aft thwart.
At the far end of the pond was a stand of dead fir trees, a lonely and gray as the post-apocalyptic ruins of a sunken city. Five of the trees had huge nests in them which, from past experience, I knew belonged to the herons I'd seen before. As I approached I saw something plummet rather gracelessly from the lowest of the nests. It flapped a few times and managed to safely crash into the weeds near the trees. A moment later I saw the fledgling heron stalk out of the cattails and sawgrass. It looked a bit disgruntled I thought. What followed were several (hilariously futile) attempts by the ungainly bird to fly. At last it settled for climbing to the top of a leaning fir tree to rest.
Scout and I continued around the pond, saw a beaver which slapped it's tail on the water as it dove away from us. Scout nearly leaped out of the boat in surprise and it took me a few minutes to persuade her to lay back down. The last thing I wanted was to end up tipping over in the leach infested water. After that little encounter we went back to the far shore, followed by a none-too-sneaky beaver. Luckily it didn't decide to make any more noise.
The adventure on the pond done we walked back to the house, took a quick detour to pick bunch-berries and so ended our jaunt.
Now I'm writing this, waiting somewhat impatiently for 5:30 to roll around, at which time I shall, like a dope fiend, feed my addiction to the spotlight by becoming Lysander for the second night of A Midsummer Night's Dream.
No comments:
Post a Comment