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1 March ~2008
I am going through old photos to give to my daughter and realized how long I have been backpacking alone in the mountains. I guess I should thank the Lord and the Angels that I have not had any serious mishaps, because there would not be anybody coming for me anytime soon to the places I go. (and I do, give thanks).
The worst part about trouble would be letting down my dogs down who rely on me up there. These dogs are willing to follow me anywhere, with hearts as big as the mountains, and then sleep near me under the stars at the end of a day lived damn right.
My perspective is always to not hold back for fear of shortening this life. It will be over quick enough anyway, and I want to face whatever awe I will feel at the end knowing that I have lived my life looking up, at mountains and sky, and on good days standing on a ridge looking down.
The friendship that develops between me and my dogs in the course of these wilderness treks is of the same quality of the gold light that spreads upon the mountain peaks at daybreak. It has always been among the best things in my life,
The memory of the times we have had, and the promise for more trips in the future keeps me from making any changes that might alter the way things are.
I don't feel like I am selfish, since at 56 years old I have done plenty of giving, Right now I am happy to hold on to the peace that comes with setting my gaze on the mystery and wonder of each day.
Yesterday I told my March story to the three classes of third graders. I think it went ok, although I could have maybe paused here and there more than I did. It was an adaption of a story written buy Sarah Orne Jewett in 1860 about a young girl named Sylvia who lived in the Maine woods with her grandmother. You can listen to the story here: The White Heron, March 14, 2008.
Today I lead a group of 17 people on a bird walk at Barr Lake, and tomorrow I do the same with some gifted students from Brighton High School. These walks arent much work for me, since I have been doing them for 12 years, and it is easy for me to find something interesting to relay to the crowd. The real show is nature, and all I have to do is relax and pay attention, and then discuss whatever is visible and/or happening at the time, such as redwings calling from the trees, geese or pelicans in the lake, eagles on their nest, or racoon or deer or fox tracks in the mud.
It is good work, that I enjoy most in the spring and in the fall. Summers are for wandering in the high country with my dogs.
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As for man, his days are like grass. As a flower of the field, so he flourishes.
For the wind passes over it, and it is gone. Its place remembers it no more.
Psalm 103:15,16
Just Do Your Best and Say 'Amen'
from Where You Been, by Carrie Newcomer, 2008