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03 June ~2008
I usually take a break from doing so many nature programs around June 1st. For the rest of the summer I only have 5 scheduled. I have done 20 since January, and the strain of leaving to do the nature programs and then returning to work late on this big project we are doing is starting to wear on me.The time and effort in volunteering for these programs felt worth it on the second to last program, a week and a half ago, when I led a group of 25 kindergardeners and their parents on a walk through Crown Hill Park.
I have been doing these programs for many years, and have figured out the right mix of walking to diffuse the children's energy, and stopping to show them something in nature and/or tell them a quick story and show them some photos.
At one of the stops I talked about Cottonwood trees and showed them how Native American children knew how to make little teepees out of the leaves. After that I noticed a little girl carrying a summer green Cottonwood leaf in her hand. Later she found a lady bug and showed it to me and her friends.
It feels right though to take a break once in a while from volunteering, when you sense you need it, to recharge your energy. Getting to an end allows you to see where you are.
When I start up my storytelling and nature programs again in the fall I will be renewed and ready to again share what I love about wildness and the earth.
Me and Ben have been taking plenty of solitary walks on the Greenbelt. Poor Maggie waits for us for return with the scent of the meadow on our feet. She is getting better though, and I think within a couple of weeks she might be able to go on short walks.
On Sunday morning we were down there early, and I threw a stick into the lake for Ben to retrieve. After swimming out to get it he brought it to the tall grass, as is our routine. He enjoys the challenge of finding something that is hidden and hard to get at, and is thrilled when he is successful.
More than once he has stood on the edge of a cliff and despite my warnings that he will lose it, he has dropped his ball. After watching it descend he heads down to find it. Sometimes he brings it back, other times it is gone forever.
Ben has a level head and although he is calm around cliff edges, has a natural sense of avoiding danger, and will let his ball go if that is the smart thing. I carry two extras in my pack so his playing is not over for that trip just because a ball got lost.
The dancing this early summer has been damn good. Last weekend was the Denver Lindy Exchange, where swing dancers from all over the country came to town for an intense weekend of dances Friday through Sunday at different dance halls. The Sunday dance was at a huge place, and there was room to move around the floor when the DJ played some good blues and Americana songs. I showed my partners how to twostep, stopping occasionally to do some swing moves. These ladies are so skilled at dancing and following that it would only take twenty seconds or so to pick up the twostep, even if they had never done it before.
Tomorrow night (Thursday) and Saturday at the Grizzly Rose is a very good band from Kentucky, the plays a version of Johnny B Goode that is hard to believe. I am looking forward to having a very good time.
This Sunday I will take a friend and her kids on a hike up to Wild Basin in Rocky Mountain National Park. It is a good hike for this time of year, because the trail follows a stream flushed with snowmelt, and after crossing a bridge over it goes into a dark spruce fir forest where there should be Calypso Orchids growing.
Returning to Wild Basin made me think of all the times I went up there with my exwife and our daughters, and one of the very first dates she and I went on, back in 1975.
Getting to to the end allows you to see clearly where you are, and where you have been. I know how things change and people move on, but that doesnt affect what I felt for her on that Rocky Mountain afternoon.
I understand now how much I was in love with her, and that it has not happened for me again like that, which is probably why I live alone.
Her memory gets more and more distant, thank goodness. That has allowed me to start to heal, but I think you have to let it take as long as it takes.
Nature and Wilderness and my Dogs see me through it, as does my volunteer work and all the dances I go to.
I think we naturally tend towards things that we know will heal us. Walking through the green of early summer or a mountain sunrise from timberline with my dogs close by certainly helps, as does a good woman's smile and her hands firm in my own.
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Listen to 'Beautiful Dawn' by the Wailin' Jennys
(enter userid of 'music' and password of 'music')
Take me to the breaking of a beautiful dawn
Take me to the place where we come from
Take me to the end so I can see the start
There's only one way to mend a broken heart
Take me to the place where I don't feel so small
Take me where I don't need to stand so tall
Take me to the edge so I can fall apart
There's only one way to mend a broken heart
Take me where love isn't up for sale
Take me where our hearts are not so frail
Take me where the fire still owns its spark
There's only one way to mend a broken heart
Teach me how to see when I close my eyes
Teach me to forgive and to apologize
Show me how to love in the darkest dark
There's only one way to mend a broken heart
Take me where the angels are close at hand
Take me where the ocean meets the sky and the land
Show me to the wisdom of the evening star
There's only one way to mend a broken heart
Take me to the place where I feel no shame
Take me where the courage doesn't need a name
Learning how to cry is the hardest part