April 4, 2024
Wisteria
Last night, during dinner at Cracker Barrel, I drank a couple of coffees with my dinner. The caffeine had me stirring at night, and woke up a little before four o’clock, feeling both tired and wide awake. I slithered out of bed a few minutes later, letting my wife know I would be back to wake her up at five.
I wrote for an hour before waking my wife. We drank a cup of coffee, trying to rouse our energy, before heading into the dining room to study and write. My wife left for work at her current rotation in Rocky Mount about an hour and a half later. I spent the rest of the morning out in the woods.
The bright sun peeking just above the eastern tree line offset the bitter mood of the frosty temperatures. The sun was still close to the horizon and cast long shadows of pine trunks through the grove at acute angles. I made my way down the trails, noticing that although the ground was dry, it was still soft from yesterday’s rainfall.
I glanced at the salt lick, seeing it was being worn away slowly by deer who frequented the grove. I stopped to study two patches of thick deer hair clumped on the ground. The hair was coarse, probably tufts of winter coat a deer pulled from its hindquarters with its dull teeth. I snapped a photograph and continued north down the trail.
As I walked past the area that transitioned from the pine grove to the woodland, a tiny frog jumped in front of me and then into some foliage at the base of a tree. I stopped to see if I could photograph it. It was the first time I had seen the Green Frog species. Most of the frog, which measured about two inches, looked frog-like, with its dark brownish-green skin. The tiny creature, however, had a bright green mark down its back that looked almost fluorescent, the same color as the nearby leaves on a rainy day. Evolution always amazed me. Its precision and function made nature even more beautiful to my eyes. Behold wisdom without intellect, based only on the natural order of things that embraced both conflict and harmony as a tool for design.
I continued down the trail, stopping occasionally to study the fresh growth around the trail. The winter air still lingered, burning my nostrils as I took in the fragrant scent of flowers. This morning, the forest air smelled sweet, reminding me of the straw tatami mats placed inside the traditional rooms of Japanese houses. The sudden memory of Japan brought with it the deep calm that came with slipping out of busy Tokyo into Yoyogi Park on the way to Meiji Shrine. Although the city’s population crammed humans into nearby subways like sardines, the nearby garden somehow retained a feeling of remoteness. Walking under the large wooden torii gates into the shrine grounds always brought an instant sense of calm. I now recognized the woods here in North Carolina felt the same. This forest was sacred ground.
When I arrived back at the house, I my mind felt clear and body, energized. I was ready to warm up in a hot shower and get my work day started. During my lunch break, I drove into Wilson to pick up some Bojangles chicken selects. My gas tank was completely full as this was the first time I left the house in my SUV since buying gasoline last week.
Bojangles was a popular fast-food restaurant in North Carolina. I never knew it existed until my wife and I were taking a business trip to Philadelphia. On the way there, we had a layover at the Charlotte airport, and even though we had little time between flights, my wife sprinted to the food court to pick some up. When she left, they were already boarding the plane, and I was sure we would miss our flight. At the last second, right before the boarding closed, my wife came running with her box of Bojangles, making it just in time. We laughed, although I knew her well enough to not step between her and a meal when she was hungry. That’s how people got shanked. The glorious smell of fried chicken tenders filled the air cabin for the rest of the flight. Today, while scarfing down the juicy chicken, trying not to burn my mouth, I laughed at the memory. I got it. This stuff was better than the fast-food in Texas.
The drive to and from Wilson was spectacular. This time of year, wisteria grew along the tree lines, with bright purple flowers hanging everywhere. Along the main road, there were few spots along the drive that were not decorated in the beautiful blossoms, most of it climbing up the nearby trees up to forty and fifty feet high. Because purple was a relatively rare color to see in nature, it seemed to grab my attention, making the drive to and from Wilson very pleasant this time of year.
After work, my wife and I walked into the woods for last light. The air was chilly, but the sun was out, making for a bright sky. Somehow, a sun-filled sky made the temperatures more bearable, while the same temperature on a clouded day felt harsh. We made our way to the creek, enjoying the pretty blue skies interlaced with puffy white cumulus clouds. The week had been so busy that Thursday had snuck up on us, and tomorrow, the last day of the work weed was finally here. We made our way back up, enthusiastic the weekend was near. Once back at the house, we made fish tacos, sat down, and had a delightful meal together. This week was especially challenging, but we just had to make it through one more day before we could close our computers and take in the spring weather.