Woods Wanderer

Late morning. Having just finished a long writing session, I’m bundled up and out the door for a short hike up Aldis Hill. Temps are supposed to get up into the teens this afternoon but I can’t wait that long. I have to get out of the house now. Single digits will have to do. Better than the subzero temps that greeted us at daybreak, yet again.

At the trailhead I slip a pair of Microspikes over my boots for traction. The snow on the trail has been packed by the many snowshoes and boots that have come before me so traction is all I need. Looks like I’m not the only one who has cabin fever.

Naked trees cast blue shadows across the snow. They also creak in a frigid breeze. Rime quickly gathers in my beard. Walking in the snow takes considerable effort even with good traction, making me wonder if coming out here was such a good idea. My dog Matika races up and down the trail, happy to be out of the house regardless of the temps. Yeah, so am I – for a while, anyhow.

Chickadees keep me company. They are boreal birds to be sure. I look up every once in a while at the dark, grey-brown trees all around me. Otherwise there isn’t much to see on this snowy canvas. Then I look down, surrendering to the kind of daydreams that come so quickly and easily on the trail.

I’m not the kind of guy who tends towards optimism. Usually I see the glass as half empty, not half full. But one thing is for certain no matter how one looks at things: the harder the winter, the better spring will be when it finally arrives. This year it’s going to be a great spring.

Tags: cabin fever, daydream, frigid temperatures, traction, winter hiking

I’ve put off thinking about it as long as possible, but now the prospect of a leisurely ramble through a lush green forest strikes with irresistible force. There’s something about the strength of the February sun that sets up this daydream. The jet stream remains well south of here and subzero temps persist as they rarely have in years past, but the wild man in me responds to bright sunlight all the same.

On some level I know this deep freeze can’t last. When it breaks I’ll be hiking across cold mud. Then the verdure will come out, slowly but surely. It’s inevitable.

Funny how we get used to the white landscape, to the frost nipping at our cheeks, chapped hands and lips, and that dull ache in the lower back from shoveling snow. Though I wouldn’t call it warm, temps in the teens seem normal to me now. And I’ve grown accustomed to being indoors most of the time. All the same, I catch myself dreaming of spring at least once each day. My favorite season is only a month or so away.

Don’t get me wrong. I know exactly what time of year it is and how long winter lasts here in the North Country. I’m keeping my snowshoes handy. I’m doing my best to live in the present. Still this longing for the green forest can’t be brushed aside. I’m a vernal creature at heart.

Tags: daydream, late winter, springtime, sunlight

Pity the poor coworker who had to put up with my surly mood yesterday. Because of a head cold, I haven’t been able to go snowshoeing this past week. And the foot of snow that fell a couple days ago created ideal conditions. Life isn’t fair. But my home still has power running to it, my cupboards are full, and I haven’t been in a car accident or stuck out on the highway like some people, so how dare I complain?

Truth is, I am now dreaming of spring. I resisted it as long as I could, but reverie overtook reality this week. Now I’m in the thick of it, pining for the green season and a forest floor covered in wildflowers. It’s worse than being sick.

I am luckier than most. I don’t mope through late March and the better part of April, longing for balmy temps. The first tramp across cold mud is enough for me to call it spring.  And every bug I encounter, every hint of new vegetation emerging from the bleached forest duff, will be cause for celebration. So the beginning of my spring season is only five or six weeks away. All the same, I’m lost in daydreams right now.

Writing about my outdoor excursions only scratches the itch. For a couple hours each morning, I am in a different time and place. But when I finish, the cold reality of the here/now bears down upon me. It’s a strange way to live, to say the least.

When a cardinal’s song penetrates the frosty window of my workspace, I know I’m not alone. Others are dreaming of spring as well – longing for the bounty of it, anyhow. But winter still has teeth. So I’ll stop brooding long enough to shovel away the snow from my door and go fill the bird feeders. There’s no sense letting daydreams get in the way of living.

Tags: cabin fever, daydream, reality, reverie