Tuesday, January 26, 2010

hush, hush, wish, wish....




Good morning!

Most days find me lacking a communication device...when the south wind blows, it takes away the satellite.  Matter of fact, should the wind blow at all- disconnect. I throw snow balls at the roof top disc, angrily, impatiently- trying to smack it back online, doesn't necessarily work- but it helps with my frustration levels.

Ah yes!  Snow!  I read some good advice the other day- for one to survive the winter in Maine- one ought to accept the truly winter way instead of trying to endure it.  A strong athlete might be able to train for a marathon I suppose, with the end in sight of 26 miles, and learn to endure- with  only 4 miles to go...but trying to endure a seemingly never ending, no end in sight Maine winter, well I suppose it could make one batty, delirious for Key West and points further south. 
 My metal will be tested for sure come April, but for now I accept the sounds of Maine- snow crunching, crispy under each step I take.  Snowflakes falling with a whisper, landing softly on pine boughs- from the dark and day sky, they tumble from some unseen shaker up above.  And when it seems the lid has been removed, the flake's fall comes in a hush, hush, wish, wish...all around, that loveliest of sounds-snowfall.
On my walks I see so far and wide- white.  Bright in it's avalanche of glow, but deeper in the snow, in the pockets- blue, snow blue!  As if the great unseen's hand passed over the landscape with sno cone syrup, adding a blueberry richness to the flavor of one's senses.


"I am in Maine and the snow is gentler now, coming from fewer clouds perhaps than it was showering down from bulked up fronts earlier.  Snow- from my first winter here in Maine, is a constant presence in the landscape.  Walking my two mile a day trails, I often find myself gazing upon a great Pine up the road a ways- I stand in the road, transfixed as the tree that holds my attention.  I often wonder why I’m drawn to it’s presence- maybe it’s twisted, gnarly branches remind me of my own troubles, maybe it’s upward growth despite the weather’s wickedness inspires me.  I think the real reason I stand here as it stands there is because of it’s solemnity in the landscape...  This area is alive with wilderness- moss hangs from the branches of the smallest to the greatest, even in winter time- the jungle never slumbers.  My tree sees all, knows all, feels all and stands upright yet pliable enough to take the calm with the storm.  Yes, I see myself in that tree and am remarkably proud of us both...."
 Walking A Ways 2010






Take care-

8 comments:

Donna Henderson said...

Oh, I like what you did here.

Thank you again, in case i haven't already, for your kind comments on my blog about losing my husband. You are so right and I'm getting stronger. Thanks for being one of the kind souls holding a flashlight for me in the dark. I think the sun's about to come up. Not sure if it's going to be a sunny day but at least it's a new day.

Jane said...

I'm glad you are enjoying your time in Maine. Send some of that snow this way!

Jane

troutbirder said...

Ah The Wild and the things there. Often my favorite places...next to home.

truewonder said...

Thank you all...I just have to say along with the comments on wild...I was never so happy as to come upon fresh Moose droppings yesterday, and in the snow- I could see where the beast lay down for a time after finishing it's business. Yes. I took pics of it...

Dawn said...

beautiful photo, and moose droppings? I would be over the moon to find those around here.
very cool!

Donna Henderson said...

Wow. I am new to your blog, I didn't know you lost a son. Have you written very much about that? I would like to read it if so. It's weird to make your pain public, and I have been criticized for doing so. However, the benefits and rewards I'm experiencing as a result make the entire process theraputic. I find it well worth the inner anguish the process of exposing my grief stirs up. Some would prefer to sit around in a circle in group-therapy sessions. This blogging thing seems to be working much better for me, and it's cheaper. I clam up in groups, or have trouble not blurting out inappropriate comments like, "Oh, give me a break! Get over it! We've heard that story a million times already and I, for one, am sick and tired of your pitiful whining! Why don't you just call 1-800-WAAH!" :>) Thanks again for your kind comments.

オテモヤン said...
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Donna Henderson said...

PS: I wonder if, when you told me your story about how your motorcycle ride helped you manage your grief, if you were aware that my late husband and I spent thousands of miles together happily riding his Harley. He was killed on his Harley. I am not sure right now if someone else took me for a ride whether I would just fall apart or be uplifted. Oh well I won't have to wonder for a while. My weather here in North Idaho is not unlike yours. I'm not going anywhere with anyone on a motorcyle until at least June!