Looking at Trees
It rained all day. Again. I feel stuck in this draughty house. The temperature outside is stuck in the 50s, and it’s not much warmer inside. Everything feels damp. No wonder people warn about mold here on Cape Cod. Will we ever dry out?
I want to feel the sun’s warmth, walk the beach barefoot, throw open all the windows in the house, and listen to the wind chimes sing under the Japanese maple tree.
In my funk, I bought ramen takeout and a blueberry and peach galette. I tried to feed my malaise. The funk persisted. I turned the news on. The funk deepened.
With just a couple of hours of daylight left, the sun peeked through, and I decided to go for a short walk in the woods behind my house.
“In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks,” wrote author Richard Powers in Overstory, a novel of activism and love of the natural world.
There are 400 acres of conservation land behind the house I moved into this past winter. I don’t know my way around these woods or know the trees and ponds. Late this afternoon, they introduced themselves to me, as kind new neighbors often do.
There’s much to learn from them. Today, however, they simply shared small messages of encouragement and optimism.
The world is full of “ands”: control and certainty and unknowing and wildness.
You can suffer significant losses and remain grounded and grow.
When things uproot, they don’t necessarily crash and destroy. Often, they are caught, held and supported.
Age is a different kind of beauty. Gnarly, grounded, and strong.
Small, showy things bloom early and fast. The majestic wonders require patience.
“As certain as the weather coming from the west, the things people know for sure will change. There is no knowing for a fact. The only dependable things are humility and looking.”