Late November Walk

It snowed most of the night. The north sides of the trees are checkerboards of white, where the flakes stick to patterns in the bark.

Wind is gusting from the north and I stop to find out what that noise is over my steps. It is the bare trees above me, whining from the winter wind. Is there a more cold and lonely sound than that?

The frog pond is frozen solid now, probably for good until late February. Ben and Maggie have a memory of this, when the water turns hard and we walk over it. Ben seems like he is smiling, as if to say 'this is so cool, to be on the pond' The grasses and juncus that stick through the ice are covered with half-inch delicate ice crystals in the early mornings.

Ben puts his nose deep in each fox track in the snow, surely less than 15 minutes old, not covered yet by what is coming down. He follows them off the trail til I hold him back. He lifts his head and scans the woods for their owner.

I work hard to pull myself up the north hill. My pack has 50 pounds of weight in it, so that I will stay in shape for backpacking.

The weight feels good. I think I am getting stronger. Walking in these woods and meadows is also good, for me, physically and spiritually. Its so beautiful out here during a snow it feels like I must be a short throw to heaven.

November

The yellow leaves are down from the Cottonwoods now. Shades of tan Brome, rust-colored Rumex, copper sumac, pale yellow dogbane cover the Greenbelt. Ink black buckthorn leaves lie at the bottom of the brook.

Raccoons have almost finished harvesting the apples in my backyard, which drives Ben and Maggie nuts. All the apples make these raccons grow to the weight of a coyote in my neighborhood. I have seen raccoon tracks side by side with fox tracks after a fresh snow. The raccon tracks were a third larger than the fox prints.

Ben and Maggie know the scents of all the critters on the Greenbelt, which is beyond me except by watching them check out each new one. They also understand my names for the different landmarks. I can say ' lets go to the frogpond' and they take a hard left turn off the trail, towards the pond that is hidden by the knee high grass from two wet years.

Maggie wades into the deeper parts of the pond even in the icy waters of November, as if she is taking her regular baptism in the waters of this place she has known since she was six weeks old. Her thick hair lifts up and seems to keep her afloat.
Ben holds back. His love of water stops when it becomes frigid, maybe because he doesnt have the thick undercoat that Maggie has.

I love fall, walking over dry and decaying leaves, through the scent of cool fresh air, when morning frost applies a silver coating across the meadow.

November is my birth month. Is that why I am so comfortable with the lonliness and scarcity of winter fields?

Blessed

It takes a long time to understand how blessed these days are. You never realize the true value of things until you get the sense they will be gone soon.

I've tried to write this in so many ways - not sure I have ever come close yet. It all boils done to love, for the smell of the air on a frosty November morning, for the glow in the sky as dawn gets near, for my dogs full of joy and excitement at walking in the dark with me, for the people I have loved, the memories I cherish.

That is as plain as I can say it. Is it clear yet? I am not sure.

Dream

Friday morning I dreamed of waltzing - heard the music, felt the beat,was aware of the woman in my arms. It was a dream I remembered when I awoke, and reached for more details, but only had those few.

It must have been a premonition to Friday evening. She had on a black dress, short and formal. Her hair was dark and little past her shoulders. Her eyes were large, brown, honest, inviting.

I have to be careful, to not lose this freedom I like so much.

Lynn

A benefit of going places alone is that you meet people you probably wouldn't have otherwise. A week ago Saturday I went canvasing for the election. At the orientation Lynn said she needed a partner, and I volunteered.

She was full of energy and passionate about the election. I walked with her all day long, and we had long conversations about the state of our country and our lives.

I found that Lynn has three daughters, loves riding her bike, and has been married a long time. Her youngest daughter has a ballot performance this same evening. Her oldest two daughters have live-in boyfriends, and she is scared to death one of them will have a baby that she will end up taking care of.

They have had tough times lately, which is one reason she is out trying to make a difference in the election. He husband has never been unemployed before. They are dipping into their retirement to get by.

She agreed that hard physical activity takes the edge off of stress and heartbreak. Lynn likes to park her car out of town several miles and ride her bike in to work and back. She is planning to get a powerful light, so she can continue to do it in the dark of November and December.

Lynn said they are doing their best in spite of her husband's two heart surgeries in the last year. He went back to work too soon after the first one, and was layed off a month and a half later, ending his health coverage. He is already trying to find work after the second heart surgery, a few weeks ago, and is not telling prospective employers his doctor has not cleared him to return to work yet.

Lynn told me that even the best marriages have their ups and downs. She believes in one marriage though, and will stay beside her husband no matter what.

Commute

A single mother just got on the bus with two wide-eyed children. Young kids seem to love riding the bus, viewing it as a sort of grand adventure. They prop themselves on their seat, look back at all the people, then watch ahead through the massive front windshields as the bus bounces along the city street.

The children that get on with Mom early in the morning are not ready to be going yet, and would rather be still sleeping. The lean against Mom's side and close their eyes.

Then there are the talkative drunks who sit at the back and laugh and yell at each other with slurred words. They are the best example anyone ever needs to leave alcohol alone.

In November I see colorful sunrises during my ride to work. By December my morning and evening commutes and in darkness.

You see glimpses of people willing to help each other. Once a man was wobbling down the isle carrying a baby in one arm and a folded up stroller in the other. He lost his balance as the bus hit a bump. Four people jumped up to stabilize him.

I remember the man about my age who saw me reading a backpacking book and commented on how he hiked the Pacific trail, and how much he enjoyed it. He said he would love to get up in the mountains again and do some more backpacking. As we talked he confessed he isnt sure he would make it. He had cancer, and according to his doctor this may be his only year left.

I listened to the story the bus driver told about the lady who pulled her new SUV right in front of him. There was nothing he could do, and her hit her on the driver side. She was devasted and kept repeating my 'husband is going to kill me." The driver asked her "Why is your husband going to kill you?". "Because I wrecked his truck." she replied. "You tell him this:", the bus driver said. "Trucks can be replaced, wives cannot."

Global Warming

There is no doubt global warming is beginning to affect the earth. Mountain Glaciers are melting rapidly. The ice on the arctic is breaking up. Thunder and lightning have begun to appear in weather formations further north then they ever have before, spooking the caribou, who have never experienced such weather in their evolutionary history.

And it seems now that the politics are such that this country will not do anything to help counter global warmings effects until we face an ecological catastrophe. Our personal lives seem to be too important to care about what effect our actions have on the long term health of the plant.

But I can do something. "Be the change you want to see in the world" is what Ghandi said. I plan to continue to leave my truck in the garage most of the time. I will continue to ride the bus, or my bicycle, or walk, throughout the week. In so doing I will benefit, in greater health, in more peace of mind.

This is a responsible action, for someone who cares about this earth that is my home, and who cares about our country. My actions result in less vehicle emissions, and therefore contribute less to global warming. If more people left their cars at home, we could reduce or eliminate our dependancy on mideast oil, and consequently decrease the risks America face by trying to maintain stability in that part of the world.

Everbody else can line the highways with their personal boxes on wheels, heaters blazing. I will sit in the cold, hot chocolate in hand, and watch the colors of the sunrise while I wait for the bus.