What I lost in the woods…

Something Told The Wild Geese

Something told the wild geese
It was time to go.
Though the fields lay golden
Something whispered,’Snow.’

Leaves were green and stirring,
Berries, luster-glossed,
But beneath warm feathers
Something cautioned,’Frost.’

All the sagging orchards
Steamed with amber spice,
But each wild breast stiffened
At remembered ice.

Something told the wild geese
It was time to fly,
Summer sun was on their wings,
Winter in their cry.

by Rachel Field

I’m not sure exactly when it happened but we have definitely turned the corner from summer to fall.

The evening before last, My Sweet and I lingered outside sitting beside a small fire. We’d agreed it was simply too nice an evening to spend it indoors.

And so we sat and we listened.

peace…

A Great-horned owl has been hanging about the neighbourhood and we have heard him hooting in the early evening hours. But that evening he wasn’t alone. His deep solemn hoots were answered by another owl not far away.

Above the voices of the owls was the honking of a flock of Canada geese as they flew by.

And as the warmth of the day receded along with the waning sun, the scent in the air changed. No more the smell of sunlight but the soft scent of moisture settling on the grass as the air cooled and condensed.

It was as close to a perfect peace as you can get.

grounding with the senses…

It is a stark contrast to the hum of activity that is my day job. This new (relatively new) job challenges me in more ways than I care to count. Believe me when I say that my other job dealing with death and all that it entails is so much easier than dealing with the living.

I have learned that I can let go of the stress and tension of the day more quickly when I surround myself with tall trees, birdsong, and the scent of the earth.

So today when I walked Rosie through the woods at the back of our property I stopped along the path. I tipped my head back and I paid mindful heed to all of my senses and I began to shed the day from the deeper part of me where it matters most.

listening…

In the very tops of the tallest aspen trees, I could hear a multitude of small songbirds whistling and chirping and singing, hidden by the yellowing leaves. The wind moved past the leaves making them rustle and swish against each other, causing the occasional leaf to break free from its stem and flutter gently to the ground.

scent and taste…

The spring was so very wet that the path in the back never fully dried, so that even now the smell rising from the forest floor is of damp rich, loamy soil. Rosie churns it to the surface as she races joyfully around the looping path.

At several places along the pathway, I had to stop and taking in great lungful’s of the ripening high bush cranberries. They hang in bright, shiny red clusters. The early frost has sweetened their mouth-puckering tartness to a mostly palatable tang. But the scent in the air…is heavenly.

touch…

As I round the far corner of the path, I let my hand pull gently over the deeply grooved and roughened bark of a big cottonwood tree. Somewhere far up the trunk of this tree is the abandoned hole of a Pileated woodpecker. One day the wind will be too much for the weakened trunk and it will break, probably near the hole which will be nearly as big as the trunk itself, held together at the edges by the bark and a thin layer of wood. But that day is not today.

sight…

Brome grass that has grown taller than I am over the summer waved its sandy-coloured, feathery seed heads as I walked past.

The sudden change in texture beneath my feet caused me to look down. Dozens and dozens of pitchy-ended spruce cones lay on the ground. The local squirrel population has been ‘harvesting’ the trees. The cones are just beginning to dry and open and I expect the squirrel(s) will be busy stashing them in their winter food caches. (I remember all those caches we raided as kids, ‘picking’ cones to sell by the gunny sack to the forestry department.)

Rosie and I walked at least three loops on the path before I was aware that my mind was fully on the sights and sounds and smells of the forest and no longer rehashing the events of the day at work.

the 6th sense (Spirit)…

It is a blessing to have this refuge, this place to let go of the heaviness of the day.

I wonder what the trees and the grasses and the earth do with the bits that I shed as I walk. As the cares of my day fall away from me, loosened and eventually released with each step upon the forest floor, where do they go? What happens to the density of energy – to the shadow that darkens my feet and my back?

I wish I had some great wise cosmic answer. I don’t.

I only know that as I release the cares of the day that the heaviness lifts from my shoulders, the tension lets loose its grip from my neck and my head. My mind starts to clear of busy-ness and the residue of the cares and struggles of those I tried to help today and the cares I still hold are only those that are mine to carry. I find my balance again.

It isn’t always so easy to let go of the concerns of the day, but today it is.

Today I leave those things behind in the woods. I leave them for the trees to take care of.