Cottonwood Fluff

5-23-2017

Warm breeze, tantalizing, teasing, caresses sun warmed skin. Blue sky, bright, deep baby blue with fluffy cotton clouds skittering by. Walking down a gentle sandy hill, under the new spring green leaf canopy of a mixed deciduous forest. Step out into the open, inhale deeply, smell the wetness of the nearby river, the tang of warm pine needles on the ground. Breeze gently tickling my skin, I look up and out across the clearing, the air is filled with white fluff floating along the air currents. Bobbing, dipping, drifting somewhat like, but completely different from snow. I send myself into the breeze to float and flit with the cottonwood fluff!

Warm Breeze In The House

5-17-2017

My husband has gone to work. I have the house to myself, so I open every window to the sunny warm spring day! I work in the yard and garden, wearing skimpy shorts and a bikini top (my typical summer attire), slathered in sunscreen, head covered with a large floppy sun hat that shades my face and neck. I am a sun worshiper through and through. Later in the afternoon, after I have mowed the lawn, I go inside to fill my water bottle and drink it, I feel a teasing, tantalizing breeze. Looking through the window I see branches with small new florescent yellow green spring leaves gently waving in the sunlight. I let my gaze drift around the house; papers rustling on the table, pollen and dust moving through a sun beam, curtain swinging in the bedroom doorway. I realize I am standing in a gentle wind tunnel, with a warm breeze traveling through the whole house. For the first time this year, all the windows are open, and a summer like breeze is cooling the sweat on my skin, and ruffling the fur of a cat sleeping on the window sill. I am in love.

SUN!

5-16-2017

FINALLY! It has stopped raining, it isn’t overcast, and it’s warm! Sunshine and blue sky! Spring is here at last! After morning yoga I fall into the hammock and just soak up the radiant heat from the sun. There are a few clouds roaming around, so after a while, one crosses over the sun and I get up to work in the yard. I stay outside all day working in the garden. I plant seeds in starter boxes, and cover the garden area with ground cloth. I haven’t done much with it the last couple of years, so this year I want vegetables! I bask in the warm sun shine all day, tracking it as it moves across the hollow. I even take my two mile walk up the road and back to see what spring is doing through our little notch on the mountains. I am unbelievable happy to have the sun back! My soul sings, my heart leaps, and my spirit soars!

Hammock Afternoon

4-6-2017

I’ve been taking advantage of the beautiful, sunny, warm, dry Spring day by going through gear, packing for rafting season, and continuing the waterproofing project. There is always so much to do in these first days of spring. The yard projects are lining up and impatiently waiting for my attention. I am a busy little bee buzzing around my hive waking it up from its long winter’s sleep. So in the late afternoon with a large yellow hazy sun hanging lazily over the western horizon, I move the hammock off the porch into the yard. I lay there soaking in the afternoon warmth, legs dangling, swinging gently, sleepily watching the haze grow thicker slowly turning into a cloud bank. As the sun dips toward the ridge, the clouds close in and a chill air stirs the bare branches. Just for a while, the sun was warm, the birds were chirping, and I took the time to lounge, first hammock basking of the season!

Shivering Bird Song

3-23-2017

I step out onto the porch into a frosty morning. The pure bright sunlight illuminates a clear blue sky and the snow covered hills and fields across the creek and valley, but our house and yard will be in shadow for a few more hours. Breath in the fresh clean cold air, stings the nose and wakes up the lungs. There are chickadees and juncos on the feeders, blue jays and doves in the tree branches across the road. I hear bird song. Many birds calling, ones I can see, and ones invisible to my eyes here on the porch. Chirp, churr, whistle, whine, buzz, sing, the frozen hollow is alive with the sounds of spring!

Zebra Snow

3-22-2017

Pull into the driveway and just sit there, tired from work, too tired to move, feeling heavy and sleepy. Blankly staring out the windshield up the snow covered forested hillside behind the house. Late afternoon sun is pouring over the western ridge behind me casting deep blue tree shadows across the bright white glistening snow. Its blinding, makes my eyes water, blink the tears away. Through my grogginess I realize what I am looking at. The bright light and dark shadows make zebra stripes across the whole hillside. Smiling I get out of the warm car, bracing myself for the cold air. Awake now and able to enjoy the zebra snow spectacle.

Epic Snowshoe

This magic moment is long because the moment was several hours long adventure in my own back yard.

3-16-2017

Bright beautiful golden sunshine streaming from a clear cerulean sky. The woods are calling! I bundle up, sit on the bottom step, strap on snowshoes, and start walking up the hill behind the house. Breaking trail, each step is an incredible feat of prowess, as I am sinking knee deep in the fresh powder. I take several steps and stop for a mini break, then several more steps and another mini break. Uphill is physically challenging, every step has to come straight up to clear most of the snow before moving forward. If not the snow bogs down the snowshoes and sinks my feet deeper and tries to pull me over. These are high stepping marching baby steps. Odd movement combination; takes me many near misses of falling down to get the hang of it.

Eventually, what seems like a hour later I leave our property, climbing higher up the hill. There are four of five ledges where the bed rock is exposed, old and tree covered, but cliff like in their impedance to uphill travel. At each ledge, I follow along the bottom until I find an area eroded enough to gain that ground as well. Soon my legs are physically exhausted, I can feel the muscles tremble with exertion. I take many breathing breaks. The cold air feels good against my sweaty skin. I need to find the delicate balance between covering exposed skin to protect it from the freezing air, and shedding layers so as to not overheat my core with this insane workout. Drinking from my water bottle, I notice the ice crystals forming in the liquid, they slide by my lips and melt in my mouth.

I am standing completely alone, near the top of the ridge. I have to stamp down the snow so I can turn to see where I came from, my snowshoe prints meandering through the trees looking for the easiest way through, and disappearing into the forest. I turn again to see ahead, flat smooth snow, creamy white and striped with blue tree shadows. I scrutinize the cliff ledge I have been following, I see a possible way up, but decide my legs still need to get me back home, so I don’t climb any higher.

Further along there is a hemlock stand, I head for that. Climbing over a down tree, I notice a line of small tracks in the snow, traveling straight through, the prints themselves are unclear, just indentions in the snow where the animals feet sank. I believe it may be a coyote, they like to go in a straight line and often travel alone. I startled a coyote out of a thicket once on a snowshoe walk down in the creek. She took off faster than I could blink, tawny brown and grey, big dog and powerful. In that moment I was astounded by her wild beauty, later I was thankful she decided to run away instead of holding her ground. I would have lost that fight.

I tromp into the group of hemlock trees, shaded area is definitely colder. Tamp down the snow to look around, then gaze upward toward the sky. The dark green black branches of the hemlocks almost shine with glory against the impossible blue sky, most of which isn’t visible through the tall thick evergreen branches.

I take a step forward, loose my balance, try to compensate by shifting weight, feel my ankle and knee start to painfully twist because the snow blocks my feet from moving, so I let go and fall face first flat into the snow. That did not hurt, but now I am practically buried. I try to push myself up but my hands just post hole deeper into the snow. I try pounding the snow to pack it down, but my hands break through again. I try rolling around making my body shaped hole bigger (and deeper), I try sinking my knees in so I get get purchase with my feet but you can’t stand on tip toe with snowshoes on. Eventually I am able to roll completely over onto my back, then sit up. From there, with a great effort of rocking back and forth, I was able to get onto my feet in a squat and promptly fell over forwards… So again I rolled over and repeated the rocking trick, and this time was able to get just enough forward momentum to get on top of my feet but without falling over again. Then I had to stand from the squat, oh my aching leg muscles!

So I march myself over to a tree with a old branch knob in the perfect position to act as a seat and take another break, drink some more actively freezing water, and look up again. These bare branches are black against the brightness of the bluest sky. They make amazing intricate random patterns zig-zaging, criss-crossing, and waving in the blowing wind that is swooshing through the hollow. Snow drifts down dislodged from its height, swirling in the wind and sparkling in the sunlight. Its cold crystals sting as the hit my face and melt. I hear branches rubbing or maybe tree trunks rubbing against each other. It’s a rhythmic moaning creaking sound, soft and subtle, that quietly stops as the wind dies away.

I decide to continue instead of turning back to home. Once I see an easy way down, I can just go down to the road and walk home that way. High stepping stop, stomp, stomp, breaking trail, my tracks behind me fading into the distance. I come upon a giant white pine in the middle of a small clearing. The diameter must be over 4 feet wide. The lower branches in a whirl pattern around the trunk are all dead but bigger around than my body. Up high the branches are alive and reaching for the sky. How does a single tree grow to be this huge? Why wasn’t it cleared when this area was farmland 100 years ago? Fighting the desire to climb, I push on. Maybe I can come back later in the summer to try climbing this giant.

Now I am seriously looking for a way down, I have been traversing at a downhill angle searching for a less steep area to descend. I see a red house and the road and am completely surprised to realize I have gone half a mile and am at the new bridge. Wow! I though I had traveled about half that distance. It is late afternoon now and the sun is headed toward setting, the temperature already dropping. The tree branches loudly crack menacingly as another gust of wind blows through. Finally, a slope I can safely descend. Still I end up sliding (kind of like skiing) down a significant portion of the descent. Back on the road. Pull the snowshoes off and head home. Exhausted, elated, enchanted, my ephemeral spirit continues to fly through the snowy forest.