March 19, 2024

Unexpected Visitor

The warm spring weather gave way to a frosty morning. After our normal routine of coffee and chores, I saw my wife off to work and then sat down to write for an hour. After, I bundled up and headed into the pine grove.

The temperature was 33 degrees with a stiff breeze, and I was surprised by how cold it felt. How quickly I had acclimated to the warmer March weather. And yet, the cold felt familiar, like an unexpected visit from a good friend whose mere presence filled the air with pleasant memories and hopes for new adventures. 

In the grove, I turned down a cleared lane between the trees. The straight path extended for several acres, making for a scenic view, with the large pines pulling my eyes into the distance. The trees on the north side of the grove were dark, but the south side of the grove lit up, bathed in the morning’s golden light. I turned north and headed into the woodland, noting the loud songs of birds waking.

I made my way to the creek and then east to Beaver Tooth Rock. There, I sat shivering, watching over the ravine. This year, I had embraced winter, and now I missed her. As my hands ached in the cold, I wondered why I loved it so much. Being cold challenged me and gave perspective to the comforts of life. Sitting there, I anticipated the joys of walking into a warm house, holding a hot cup of coffee between my numb hands, and then jumping into a steamy shower that would make my scalp and skin tingle. Ah, winter, I missed you.

I looked out into the ravine. The sun cast a light on the tips of the tallest trees before me. The earth was warming, the wildlife awakening, and the day felt full of promise and hope. Mornings were a reminder that the day was unwritten, a clean white piece of paper upon which I could write my day as I pleased. This empty page felt calm and stable, and I wanted to hold on to this memory throughout the day. For me, nothing ruined the white paper as quickly as the news or social media, which felt like tipping over a bottle of ink on my only page. You just get one chance per day.

A few days ago, my wife and I brought a bag of dog food into the woods and poured it into two large bowls. One bowl sat on Beaver Tooth Rock. I noticed that something was eating it little by little, probably the raccoons. We had to get rid of the dog food because my sensitive son, Bodhi, was allergic to the beef based kibble. We replaced it with a salmon based food that agreed more with his skin. Five or six crows flew into the surrounding trees, cackling and cawing. They were so loud and busy. I wondered what they were saying. I imagined they were laughing at me and saying, “hey there’s that guy that climbed into the tree stand with all the hornets yesterday. And where are his fancy warm gloves? It’s cold out. Dummy.”

I walked west and found a comfortable spot near the creek. There was a thin branch lying just above the water’s surface, where the wind was blowing through. A thin layer of ice had formed around the twig, something I had not seen for a few weeks now. I knew that this was probably the last frosty morning until late fall, and I was happy I was outside experiencing it. My hands were throbbing, and I felt shivers shoot through my neck and down my spine. I made my way back to the grove where the sun was now glaring and found a space between the trees where the sun’s rays were shining. I sat there for a few minutes, trying to warm myself. A single goose flew over the grove, heading northeast. Below me was a round spider web perfectly dusted in yellow pine pollen. It was a glorious morning.

Work, today, was busy but productive. During my lunch break, I drove into Bailey to pick up paper plates and napkins from the Piggly Wiggly that I needed for the camera club meeting this evening. On the way back into Sims, I saw several tractors tilling up the fields, leaving long dust trails behind them. Planting season was here. I took a minor detour and stopped by the reservoir to take a few pictures. The pine pollen still stained the water, but it was a bright, beautiful day.

The clear skies made for good visibility, making the lake seem more vast. An osprey was flying over the water, diving for fish. For a moment, my mind flashed to the many shores I had called home. I had stood out facing the water many times in my life, in Texas, Cancun, Puerto Juarez, Maui, and Japan. The water seemed endless and unpredictable, and yet throughout the ages, humans have stepped away from the stability of land and into the abyss in search of something better or, at least, different. What drove us to do that? My mind turned to a poem I wrote many years ago.

Ocean, tell me why

Land’s safety cannot quell my

Desire to cross you.

Am I seeking new shores or 

For the journey in between?

I headed home and dove back into my work. Around three o’clock, I took a quick break and made a cappuccino and sat on the front stoop in the sun. I really loved coffee, and it felt good to feel the sun’s warmth on my face. Work had been productive, and I was happy with the progress I made. Just as I was relishing the moment, and it seemed things couldn’t get any better, I saw a light colored vehicle turn down our dirt road. Wait, that wasn’t a light colored car. It was my wife’s black SUV covered in pine pollen. She was home early. She pulled up, flashed that gorgeous smile that hooked me the first time I saw her, and then chided me about how hard my life was. We both laughed and embraced. After greeting the dogs, she immersed herself in her studies while I got back to work.

After work, I grabbed the food my wife purchased for the camera club meeting. She had made a Costco run and there were large containers of croissants, cinnamon-orange rolls, danishes, and more. I loaded up my vehicle, kissed my wife, and headed out the door. The meeting was fun, and a speaker provided instruction on photographing the sun and solar eclipses. There was also a photo contest we voted on. All the entries impressed me and I appreciated the efforts of the participants. Joining the Wilson Camera Club had been a great experience.

I arrived home a little after nine and my wife was already in bed. I snuck into the bedroom to give her a kiss, knowing she wouldn’t sleep well until she knew I was home safe. In the kitchen, she left handwritten instructions scribed on butcher paper on how to prepare the dinner she left me, which included a salad with homemade Caesar dressing and fresh grilled salmon. The food was amazing. I ate quickly, jumped in the shower and climbed into bed, ready to sleep after a busy, productive, and happy day.