Inspired Spring

In Trackless Woods
In trackless woods, it puzzled me to find
Four great rock maples seemingly aligned,
As if they had been set out in a row
Before some house a century ago,
To edge the property and lend some shade.
I looked to see if ancient wheels had made
Old ruts to which these trees ran parallel,
But there were none, so far as I could tell-
There's been no roadway.
Not could I find the square
Depression of a cellar anywhere,
And so I tramped on further, to survey
Amazing patterns in a hornbeam spray
Or spirals in a pinecone, under trees
Not subject to our stiff geometries.
- Richard Wilbur

I found this poem cut out and sitting on a table at the cabin last weekend and promptly fell in love with it. I feel like I know the woods that he was walking through, there just down from here by the "dutch gate' where you can follow the trail along the river until it disappears near the old mill ruins. I've spent hundreds of hours in those woods, not just as a child but as an adult as well.

But since we've been back, even though we're out at the cabin often, I haven't had the chance to just walk my woods. There are people to see or small feet to accommodate. When I do find a few moments to myself I am drawn to quiet corners where I can read my book.

Now that Spring is entering the air I think I need to start wandering my woods. There are so many answers there, when you are there alone. When I was in high school and we would come for the weekend I would be full of internal turmoil and bile only walking alone on unseen trails and old dirt roads would soften my emotions. These are woods where time is not constant, hours may pass while walking for a few minutes or on other days I could sit for hours and come back home only twenty minutes later. But they take the time they need to show you what is needed.

When I was young some of what I would see was not there, like the house I spied from my spot on an boulder. In my mind I was sure that there was a house someone else had built on our land (not all of the land I wandered was ours). Not only that but my imagination let me see the limousine and butler of the owner (himself an evil short man with a black trench coat). I ran back to the house as quietly and quickly as I could, telling my father about what I had seen. Together we returned to the spot, but with him there I looked again and we saw the fallen trees (the house and limo) and the dark brush (the butler).

Sitting here I can smell the damp earth and decaying leaves of the spring melt. I know the feeling of the soft ground interrupted occasionally by hidden slabs of ice and spongy bits where the ground becomes more water than mud. I want to be on that tramp where I know that I will come home with wet socks and pockets full of treasures.

Have I Mentioned the Crows?

The summer I turned ten I went away to a very special summer camp, there are thousands of stories that I could tell about how that place has had an affect on my life but right now I want to tell you about the crows.

The crows there seemed to like me and scare me. They would follow me to and from the barn early in the morning when I, always late, would walk alone to barn-chores. They would settle near me at what ever activity I was doing during the day. If I ever stopped to pick peas or rhubarb in the garden (yes this was a farm camp, among other things) they would come close to inspect me. All this attention from the crows made me very nervous. I would try my hardest to walk to the barn with other kids, often doing it with my boots untied or in my arms.

As the summer progressed I learned to ignore the crows. Well sort of, I had just became better at getting ready in the morning and I always had someone to walk with after evening barn-chores.

As I grew old the crows just stayed around.

After college I moved to Colorado and the whole way across the country there was always a small murder waiting for me. At the time I was sure they were following, now I rather think they just warned each other of my arrival. After settling in Durango they became much more bold. I would sometimes find them on top of my car after a days work at the ski resort. These were bold crows who frightened me, they would caw as I came down to the parking lot only fly off when I took my keys out.

It was during that first year that the crows began to soften. They would follow me, but occasionally it would be them leading. On my rare days off I would go for hikes, following them, I saw many beautiful places this way. Of course I was still scared of them, but I respected them too. With one boy friend they would crowd the tree by his window waking us up early, he swore they were only ever there when I was.

Finally I met Kevin, someone who I could tell my strange crow story to and rather than laughing he took me seriously. We talked about what the crows could mean or what it was about me that attracted them. During that time I had a frightening dream about a crow that came into my bed and was flapping all over me. I woke in dread but Kevin showed up soon for an early morning breakfast and calmed me. That's when I told him about the crows.



Since then I've used crows like some people use tarot cards or the I Ching. When I'm trying to make a decision I look for them and see what they are doing. I interpret their movements to help me choose. It isn't as though they tell me what to do, that would be nutty, instead they are a way for me make concrete thoughts that were floating in my mind. They still follow me around but it just makes me smirk now.

Day 3: Spriting and Tea

Of the things I miss most from before Alder long urban walks by myself is the top of the list. They used to be a daily occurrence, now I still can take them but I have Alder with me which means that I don't cover quite the same distance nor have the same luxury of letting my mind wander as freely as it did.

The first morning that we were in Santa Fe I took off by myself for a walk. I wanted to see what the city looked like away from the downtown. I walked for over an hour in residential neighborhoods. I had hoped to find a local coffee shop to sit in but the direction I chose was purely homes. The weather started out the perfect day for walking, the sky was white but the unseen sun was bright. My mind wandered further than my walk emptying itself of kinks and dust. I call this spriting, it is sort of the opposite of seated meditation since you are constantly moving and letting your mind think about what ever it comes across. When you have come to the end of your spriting your mind is as empty as meditation but the process has none of the forcing that meditation has in it.

My wandering lead me to The Tea House that was located on Canyon rd near the galleries. It welcomed me as the weather began to turn nasty. This is one of those places where you can lose an hour or six, drinking tea (from a six page menu) and getting comfortable at a table or in comfortable chairs and couches. The tea house actually has five or six rooms. I found myself at in a cozy leather chair in a room with a kiva fire place.

I was not willing to move from the Tea House so I told everyone else to meet me there. I knew Kevin would like it, in fact he says it was his favorite part of the trip.

From Spring Break ...