Woods Wanderer

Now we are in the thick of it. The holidays have passed and a winter storm has recently dropped half a foot of snow. It still clings to the bows of trees as I get out of bed and start my day. After an hour and a half of work in my study, I gaze out the window to catch the cool, blue light of predawn. My study is warm and well lit by comparison. I slip downstairs and poke my nose out the door for a whiff of the clean, cold air. For several weeks the ground has been naked, or barely covered by a thin film of powder. Now it looks the way it should look here in northern Vermont in January: blanketed by the white stuff.

The Winter Solstice is well behind us and already the days are noticeably longer to a light-sensitive fellow like me. The deep cold still lies ahead, though, as it takes the planet a while to warm up and cool down. No matter. It’s a brand new year, a new day, and life is good.

The days are getting longer, and I have plenty of work to keep me busy until the big thaw comes. That’s still months away. Occasionally I’ll get out and tramp around in the snow, but for the most part mine is an indoor life until mid-March. I’ll shovel the snow regularly, as I did yesterday, and sometimes that’s all the outdoor activity I need. As a writer I have learned to make the most of these colder months so that I don’t feel bad about being outdoors and unproductive during the warmer ones. It’s a good arrangement, actually. A good balance.

But now I revel in the blue light of predawn. I feel the exhilaration of simply being alive and well. The Earth circles the Sun and the seasons change. I relish the days ahead, as well as this day. It feels good to be stirring about on a day like this, on any day above ground.

Tags: daybreak, gratitude, snowfall, winter

After surprising three deer crossing the road, I parked my car then stepped into the woods. My dog Matika was right on my heels. The sun was just clearing the eastern horizon. I had crept out of bed a little after 4 a.m. and was now approaching a mountain stream at daybreak. A hermit thrush greeted me with its flute-like song.

I ignored the mosquitoes while tying a fly to my line. A cool breeze wafted down the brook as the first shafts of sunlight broke through the trees. The tumbling stream rushed along, unraveling my thoughts. Next thing I knew there was a brook trout tugging my line. I lifted my rod and brought it to the bank where I was crouching, much to Matika’s delight. She danced about in predatory play. The small fish slipped back into the drink faster than she could react.

I caught a few more fish and lost a few while slowly making my way up the stream. It hardly mattered. My casts were more out of habit than intent. I was enthralled by the deep green tunnel directly ahead – the dark hemlocks, vibrant moss and ferns, and slick gray rocks around which the stream flowed. Fishing was just the excuse that brought me here, what got me out of bed.

Upon reaching a deep pool at the base of a boulder, I gave up all pretense of fishing. I sat on the stream bank admiring the unspeakable beauty all around me and soaking in its wildness. Eventually, after killing a dozen or so mosquitoes taking turns at my forearms, I removed the fly, reeled in all my line, and hiked out.

Back on the road, I felt the full power of a sun only days away from the summer solstice. Not even mid-morning and already the air felt warm. It was going to be a hot day, but I’d already enjoyed a cool reprieve at the beginning of it.

Tags: daybreak, mountain brook, summer solstice, trout fishing, wild beauty