Everywhere Outside Can Be An Adventure

Perched on a rock overlooking the Rio Grande River in New Mexico.

Do you remember the first time you did something scary?  Something that made you think...maybe I might not live to see the light of the next day?  I bet most of you will say, sure I do and in your mind a picture of driving on the interstate or your first encounter with a bear or rattler on trail will come to mind.  Well, for me the first thing I remember that made me so scared was sitting in a tall tree at about age 10.  As the wind moved the tree back and forth with greater and greater force, I thought, eeek...how the heck am I going to get down?! 

Oh, how I love to climb up in a tree, up in a tree so high

I did get down from that tree and went on to do other scary stuff.  The standard for my idea of scary, of course, becoming ever greater as I aged.  How large were the effects of that early risk taking behaviors on my willingness to take more and greater risks throughout my life?

Given the freedom, kids will touch anything, once

If given the freedom and opportunity, all children are born explorers.  They do not know what a risk is…..everything is new, bright and shiny!  They are so close to the ground things like ants, grasshoppers, butterflies, tiny tree frogs are easy to inspect if able to be caught.  Following nature to secret places, deep in high grass or up a tree or into a creek turning over rocks, plucking that first snapping crawdad from under rocks, takes daring and courage.  Building upon a solid base of challenges to a child’s courage, walking through small injuries and learning that a burst of adrenaline is a good thing and is not going to kill you is all a part of growing up.  Well it used to be.

In hot pursuit....

In this day and age, parents must balance the possibility of injury vs. the pay off.  A child who is courageous, able to deal with stress and challenges in a positive manner and is curious often runs ahead, literally, of a parent's ability to catch him/her.  If a child doesn’t learn to deal with difficult situations and doesn't discover that they can work out either a good OR a bad solution for themselves, how then as adults will they have a basis for making good decisions? Risk taking and dealing with challenges in increasingly difficult situations builds confidence and teaches a child how to make good decisions. 

I am sitting on the edge of a cliff to take this shot in Santa Fe NF, NM

I can’t say that I make perfect decisions even now as an adult; I tend to go towards the unknown, the challenging, the risky.  Often, I fall on my butt. It usually is a lot of fun though and I learn a great lesson which empowers me to move forward. 

First view of Lake McDonald, West Glacier, MT

I’ve seen a few mountain tops, not as many as I have wanted to but still, I’ve seen them.  Paddled a few streams again not enough.  I’ve listened to animal noises in the dark, alone, on a wilderness trail and slept but haven't done this enough.  For me those early challenges, explorations into the backyard trees, woods and creeks pushed me to explore and to seek what is around the next corner.  I learned early that everywhere and everything outside can be adventure and that HAS made all the difference.

Dang, it's cold!

“I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”

Robert Frost

Serenity

Seated by the window in Green Getaway cabin, the thunder rolls around me like marbles in bag, just loud enough to announce its presence;  a portend of what’s coming or going.  Lightening flickers, half-heartedly, overhead.  Rain chatters on the tin roof.  This small cabin has become a nest in the woods, a peaceful place to concentrate on MY ART.  The cabin is appropriately named as it sits just off the driveway in the woods.  The sweet, spicy smell of Lilies of the Valley and rain-washed dirt drift through the open window while a single Red-Winged Blackbird complaint breaches the wall of quiet which envelopes me.

I am 3 days into a weeklong women’s writing retreat, gifted by generous women in memory of one talented female who thought that her gifts to the world weren’t particularly art.  Because of her outstanding and unrecognized talent (largely only by her, others recognized her gifts) which left this world when she did, this weeklong getaway, WIDIA, What I Do is Art, was born.   I am not completely sure what lucky happenstance put me in a place where I am able to afford a week to come to this but here I am.  Many thanks to Gloria for pushing me to do this, Sue & Marcia for accepting me into the program and Jim, for his constant support of me even when he doesn’t understand.  Viva la difference!

Last summer which was spent in Montana demonstrated to me the benefits of living off the grid.  The immersion in nature, the lack of outside electronic stimulus, the simplicity of life when lived in the now allowed a freedom to think and be myself mostly without the intrusion of outside influences.  It was important to be involved in the lives of those around me and to be kind to them for I knew the next day there was no way to avoid seeing and working with them.  Small indiscretions became big walls of dissension if not dealt with in a timely manner.  Cliques developed and loneliness floated about formless and ghostlike unable to be ignored.  The community mattered so when something happened 30 miles away either to the east or west it took only a little while for the news to arrive at our doorstep.  How I am still not sure.

In order to entertain ourselves, we ate together, laughed and shared our memories, our hurts, and our joys. Our differing cultures were evident.  We shared meals which, bathed in potatoes and homemade cake, completely different than any cake I’d eaten before topped with a beautiful strawberry cut in the shape of a flower, brought us together and made it seem a little more like home.  We toured Glacier, packed in small cars or on the Park buses, jumping out whenever possible to view glorious vistas of mountains, rivers, glaciers, snow, flowers and mountain goats, which appropriately took our collective breath away.  At night, we’d share where we’d gone and what we’d seen ohhing and ahhing over photos and the recollections of moose and bear encounters.  Even now these thoughts bring a tear to my eye as I reminisce and miss my friends who are far away. 

Those of us who were older shared craft beers and whiskey around stoves and campfires, the light from which softened the wrinkles and graying hair.  In July, the berries arrived making the steep climbs, up mountains a feast and well worth the effort.  I thanked the woodland creatures for sharing their bounty with us believing that the Mother of all would provide enough for all who were in need.  Still, I tried not to gorge myself on the red, blue and purple berries. 

Tiny alpine strawberries the size of an eraser packed a surprising burst of intense flavor…these were my favorite.  Huckleberries followed creating a fervor amongst us all as we rushed to the mountains sides to collect and hoard as many of these small blue beauties as we could.  We went on Huckleberry Pie tours discovering which vendor in the park made the best pie.  Luckily, we walked off the calories every day either out on a trail or running up and down the 3 flights of stairs.

And so, I learned the rewards of a summer spent doing what I wanted, a summer spent living in the moment without too many outside influences.  I learned that nature is both wonderful and terrible, it’s transforming energy life-giving no matter how intense the storms, snow or wind.  I experienced becoming even a small part of the larger cycle as the modern world slipped away and I became part of the food chain.  This escape defined for me what is real.  The fertile ground running through my fingers when I plant is real and full of life.  The wind which bends the trees and the breezes which touches my cheek lightly is real, the touch of a friend and their cheery hello is real, the brilliant sapphire sky and sun are real and living as one with earth’s creatures both wild and human is real.  The cyber world…..not so much.

Now, as I miss me some Montana, I am grateful for this break from the modern world full of bustle, turmoil and imagined important to-do lists.  I am grateful for the lack of media, stoplights and gas stations.  I am grateful for my two feet which propel me down the trail, however short.  I am grateful that the hum of the distant interstate reminds me simply of a field full of bees making happy working sounds.  I am grateful that my path led me to Green Getaway Cabin and if ever I am able to return it will be with fond memories and feelings of joy and reunion like coming home to an old friend. 

The Beautiful Summer

I walked the other day on a lovely trail...not too steep but just a little, not too down but just a little...it was just right.  It led me along the river that runs by the Inn.  Its babblings spoke of summer sun and pine scent and peace.  The river carried this news further down and further down into the town where hopefully it spoke its peace, dissipating it into the general population.

It is high summer here in the Montana mountains and with summer comes a plethora of beauty.  So much beauty, often, I find it overwhelming my senses to the point that I cannot blog, write, photograph it...the creation is unable to be documented with sufficient human acts to do it justice..so I do not; I just look and remember. But on this particular day, I found that beauty had turned to bounty.  Lining the trail was the beginning of the summer abundance...you got it....berries!!!

 

 If you have never tasted an alpine strawberry, well then you have never tasted a real strawberry.  They are tiny about the size of the end of my little finger.  They are hard to find, about 1 in every 5 plants has this tiny treat hanging under its leaves.  However, it is packed with the flavor of 10 of those strawberry taffy bars, only better!  Hungrily, I ravaged the tiny plants up the 1.25 mile trail.  The rewards were few but each time I found one I wanted to cry, "Eureka" for the discover meant just the briefest of moments of  exquisite flavor. 

Oh, I guess I also forgot to mention that the first of the Huckleberries were also ripening.  Small, blueberry like berries but different, they tasted more like a blueberry with a pinch of sourness which blended in my mouth to create a need for more.  So, as my hiking partner and I edged our way up the mountain we feasted upon nature's bounty and I tried to remember that the animals who we share this beautiful mountain with also needed this bounty for their survival.

 And there is the rub for me, trying to remember that it is NOT all abut Moi.  In fact, in this place, it most definitely is very little about me.  This is not my home, although it is.  The food that grows in great abundance here is balanced each year so that the true residents of this mountainside can survive.  If I decide that alllll this is really mine and I can take it all, who actually loses?  Not me, for I can go to the grocery and buy really all I will ever need ten times over, only thing I'll lose is the fleeting sensation of pleasure I receive from tasting the berries of the mountains.  This taste reminds me that at some point in time "I" knew about how to take care of myself in the wilderness.  Somewhere back in time, in my wild brain, I knew that this abundance helped "me" through the winter too and I vied with the wildlife for it.  But now, I don't need it so what is my right to it?  

It was with these thoughts rolling about in my head that I hiked up and up not to far, not too long but just enough to view the river flowing happily below, to smell the pine scent, to think about my wild self and to feel the breeze on my face.  All of these sensations helped me to get back to the ancient me, that still small voice on the inside that said, "Eat the berries, but not too much, leave some for those who will come behind you whether it be bear or human.  You do not need it all for nature is abundant and takes care of her own. There will be more for you when you need it, as you need it."  And so, as I reached down to find another tiny, red treasure, I thanked her for her provision and bounty, knowing that she will take care of those who love her.   

Life...Its all about the Details

Looking west towards the restaurant

I sat in my usual seat, on a normal day, in a restaurant a mile down the road from where I work in Montana.  A mile being a close place to visit considering that the grocery is 30+ miles away.  We all have gotten to be friends, the waitress knows me as Vera and when I eat there it feels comfortable and familiar.  That's Montana for you...it really does feel like home.  But familiarity has nothing to do with the wonder that eating here brings.  I sit in this seat, my favorite chair at my favorite table because the hummingbirds are 4 feet away on the other side of a window.  Watching these guys flit about, bobbing and weaving, literally, dancing in the air is a joy I've never experienced before ...being so close to these aerial acrobats makes me feel incredibly connected to nature.

Female Rufous Hummingbird - not taken by me

The Rufous Hummingbird is all of about 3 inches long and according to Cornell is "one of the feistiest of all the Hummingbirds".  Its 3,900 mile trip from Canada to Mexico is a feat incomprehensible to me.  How is it such a small bird can make that journey twice in a year?  Beating its wings uses so much energy, its metabolism so high, that if it did not go into a state of almost suspended animation when it sleeps, it would die.  Lowering its heartbeat to almost nothing, it manages to survive each night.  Living on such a thin edge between survival and death to us would be so stressful, yet for the Rufous Hummingbird, nay all Hummingbirds, it is normal. 

There is a bee in there somewhere

I ponder the lessons this little bird brings to me as I watch it compete with a large black bee or wasp.  They are both after the nectar in the feeder; the bee staying underneath the feeder lapping up the sugar that has leaked from the feeder while the Hummingbird laps directly out of the feeder.  Both are seeking the same source of nourishment but from different spaces and are not really in each others way.  However, they feel threatened at certain times by each others presence enough to chase each other around for what seems like no reason to me and burning vital resources. Useless waste of energy, I think to myself.  What is amazing to me is that the Hummingbird is intimidated by this bee.  I guess the bird fears the sting also.   

Life living on the edge of a gravel pull off

So, the wisdom of the Hummingbird to me, is this: 

1) Life is short yet full of movement and flights of fancy
2) When you need to rest then do it completely, shut down and relax
3) Things that are smaller than you can be intimidating but if you dodge and weave enough or even distract it, you and others can get what you need
4) Sharing is good but sometimes you need to just stand your ground 
5)  Beauty comes even in the smallest of packages
6) Size doesn't matter when it comes to being strong.  What does matter is your attitude, your ability to endure, knowing where your resources are, waiting/resting at the right times and persevering, all are the keys to being strong and surviving the long haul
7) Refuel often and then remember where you found it because you'll need to revisit it again while on this journey
8) Shine like the sun, show off sometimes and fly with quick wings; remember you are beautiful
9) You're going to lose some friends along the way but you have to keep flying even through the disappointment and pain
10) Live like there is no tomorrow because life is short and full of danger; enjoy the moment 

Sometimes you don't make it

 Nature has so many lessons to teach us if we just stop and think about it.  Surrounded by the beauty of the natural world, I find that often I just take a picture to record the moment, instead of stopping to ponder my part in the whole.  I do not remember that I am a participant in the turning of the circle, thinking I can stand apart from it all.  The greatest moments of clarity, I've found, come when I find my true place amongst all the other animals.

Disclaimer:  Of course, I did not have my camera with, so I'll use a picture given to me by an amazing photographer of a Rufous Hummingbird.  This was one of our Hummingbirds at the Izaak earlier this summer.  The rest of the photos are mine, just a few of the amazing things I've seen this summer.



 

Confusion

View of the Izaak Walton Inn from the trestle bridge over tracks

I have been in Montana now for several weeks and have yet to set pen to paper to write about my journey west or what it is like here.  Life has been a whirlwind of learning, lack of sleep, excitement and wonder over the beauty that now surrounds me.  Aside from the fact my internal compass no longer works due to crossing the Great Divide; there should really be no reason for my lack of creativity.  There are abundant sources of inspiration from the continuous serenade of the birds which sing from the tall, tall pine-y tree tops to the mist which rises from the feet of the mountains each morning as the cold air turns warmer. 

Misty, mountain morning greets eastbound AmTrak train

I have decided that it is this sensory overload which is the cause of my fumble fingered photography these last weeks and my lack of words.  At first almost every picture I took was awful, words came to my head yet would not cross the great divide from mind to paper.  Ideas would start then wander away down some greening trail and then up the hillside to stand at the crest breathless and unable to come fully formed to the pad.  I found myself open-mouthed and crying more often then not stupefied by how long it had taken me to find this place.  For now this feels like an end to a long journey, like home almost and overwhelms me often.

The view as you walk on Essex Rd.  Rt 2 and the Middle fork of the Flathead River are below

The difference between east of the Divide and west are numerous.  Snow in May, Grizzly Bears up on the mountain about 3 miles away, Mule deer much less eating plants outside my front door, no need for air conditioning or TV and it's OK to wear fleece year round.

First May snow (yes there was another one mostly up on the mountains)

Supposedly, the Mulies will go up the mountain when the Grizzlies decide to come down the mountain and wander around in the parking lot.  We know there is at least one up near Almeda Lake but now scat has been sighted up on Dickey Creek Road.  Again not much more than 4 miles away.  At this time the Mulies are gone but no bears have decided to visit...I carry bear spray with me on the 100 foot walk to the Inn each day. 

Mule Deer - Can you count them?

I want to bring everyone here....to see this wondrous place before it is gone, melted, fracked, greeded into oblivion and I feel so lucky to have come here to see it even as it stands in the balance.  Pictures do not do this land justice. I have come to believe that there are those who do and those who don't and those who don't never know what they have missed but those that do will always understand the value of wilderness.  It is our job to try to translate what a thrill it is to live in this place.  I will paraphrase a friend who said that essentially for some there is a primal need to be somewhere where you are challenged in ways you never dreamed you would be and the fact that you are not at the top of the food chain is one of the thrills.  

Man-eating Snowshoe Rabbit....my that looks tasty

  So, I will continue to attempt to share with you all my thoughts about my life here and to do my very best to encourage you to challenge yourself no matter where you are. It is, after all, the adrenaline flowing through your veins which reminds that you are alive. 

Sunset over the train yard

Westward HO!

 *First written on April 23, 2013 as I was leaving Ohio for Montana. Sorry for the long delay. 

 It seems fitting to me that as I pack the car to move from Ohio to Montana, leaving on what has become an epic adventure, that spring in all its glory is bursting out all over.  For all endings are actually just new beginnings and spring is just that...evidence that all is not lost but actually just dormant and waiting for a little sun.  My home in Ohio is 2 acres of natural loveliness, me being the fine horticulturist that I am, flowers run together with wildflowers and weeds in a combination of color and confusion.  I love it.

As most of you know, I've not found a full-time job in Ohio in 5 years of looking,  Lately, I've applied nationwide which produced some positive results in that I did make it to the top of 6 job searches.  Meaning, that I was 1 of 20ish or so to get a phone call or two in a selection process that started with 200 to 300 people.  Ok, so I'm flattered but still am without a job.

In March, I had decided I might move to Florida.  My friend, Cathy, spoke to me of how HOT the summers are and stated that, "You really have to feel called to move to Florida!"  So, I reconsidered.  I've been to Florida in the summer, its more than hot.  In stating to her, several times, that we should find a cool summer place to go to, I had a head-slapping moment when I realized that I knew someone who worked in such a place. 

I sent my resume, to a cool summer place, I waited over the weekend for Monday to come thinking all the while about seasonal jobs and what I might do after it ended if I was not asked to stay.  At 10 AM Monday, the phone rang, it was the owner of the Izaak Walton Inn calling to talk.  His manner was easy, he was exited about the possibilities and at the end of an hour long call, it was on me to read the Employee Handbook and decide if this non-smoker could adhere to the "no Crack smoking" rule.  I giggled and in an email later that night told him I thought I could live with this. 

Then the next day another call came, an offer, a virtual handshake over the phone occurred and the next thing I new I had agreed to spend at least the summer in Montana.  Not just normal Montana, but Glacier National Park area, Montana!  Compared to all the other job searches had been a piece of cake.  

So, that chain of events is why I'm leaving Ohio and moving to Montana.  I'm moving for a job, seasonal at the least.  I'm moving into spring, a new beginning.  I'm moving into the unknown towards the sun.  I'm moving because my heart says maybe I"m going home.  Stay tuned everyone.  I'll post more later about the journey.