Day 19

Freezing rain is falling throughout the region.  I opt not to attempt the roads or the walk to my Sit Spot today.  Instead, I read through my entries to date, observing, reflecting…

Half-way through the first entry I switched from past tense to present tense…  and entries remain in present tense since then.  That’s interesting.  I wonder what that means?

My writing is rather anthropomorphic here.  I don’t tend to do that at my nature blog.  That’s interesting.  I wonder what that means?

When I started this blog to record my experiences at my Sit Spot, I chose to record only those observations, thoughts and feelings that came to me once I was in the woods.  Sometimes that includes a bit of the approach, or a bit of the walk out.  Still, when I read the entries, I’m instantly reminded of other things that happened that I did not record:

• Looking for a stranger’s lost dog.
• Getting mad at my dog for not coming when I call her.
• Conversations with other Dog Walkers.
• Thoughts and feelings too private to share with anyone.

My Sit Spot is not my only exposure to the natural world… So my entries also remind me of other hikes or experiences… Like the bonfire on the night of the eclipse, a walk-about with a bunch of teens during Day Camp Reunion at Audubon where I work, or a snow shoe walk in a different woods.

All in all, I’m not sure what is happening at my Sit Spot.  I’m not sure what I expect to happen, if anything.  It is a challenge to get there every day when you lead such a busy life.  Sometimes, when I get there, I feel like I must be crazy – trying to cram one more thing into my already-too-busy life.  Other times, after a deep breath, I feel that this is the only thing keeping me sane.  Often, there is a deep melancholy that I have to leave the woods at all.

We have passed the halfway point in the 30-day Sit Spot Challenge, though I suppose in fairness I should add 3 days to the end for the times I have missed.

Day 18

How can so much change in 36 hours.  Well… it was 36 hours of temperatures above 40.  Indeed, today the temps rise to near 60 for a good chunk of the day.  Approaching my Sit Spot is quite difficult.  Imagine 12 inches of powder exposed to 36 hours of warming.  Puddles?  No:  Lakes!  Slush up to my shins in some spots.

The air is generally warm, but waves of even warmer air drift past me as I walk.  It feels much darker in the woods tonight than when the snow was powder.  The slush doesn’t reflect light in quite the same way.

When I sit, I am aware of the presence of someone, something, but I see nothing.  The leaves rustle every now and again.  It takes me a while to realize that the sound I hear off to the south is not traffic on the road, but the rushing gurgle of the swollen creek.

I can’t stop thinking about Dave Love.  20 years old.  College student.  Gone now.  Aneurysm.  Everyone who knew him says, “He made you laugh.”

Day 17

I rely on snowshoes again today to get me to my Sit Spot.  As I sit, I notice that Lolli has definitely learned the purpose of the location.  In the beginning, she was restless, wondering when our walk would continue.  Now, she sniffs and explores without restlessness, and even sits and chews and listens.

My favorite time of day is dawn and the hour or two that follow.  The golden glow of sunlight gives way to bright, slanting rays… Songs of birds and chatter of squirrels replace silence…  The waking up…  Today I hear cardinals, blue jays, chickadees, titmice, downy woodpeckers, red-bellied woodpeckers, crows, and more.  Best of all, I hear kids playing.  (I’m glad to know kids still play in the snow!)

Tears sting my eyes when it is time to go home.  My intense desire to stay in the woods all day brings on a melancholy that can’t be explained…

Day 16

The depth of fresh powder averages twelve inches.  It drifts deeper in some spots.  The wind sweeps it away in others.  Still, today is a day for snow shoes.

Snow clings to every branch and tree trunk.  It is strange that there is not one animal track in the snow.  Chickadees argue back and forth about whose territory is whose.  No one else speaks.

I find I don’t want to leave.  I want to camp right here.  But chores call loudly and I head home.

I manage the groceries, but am too tired for the other chores…