March 22, 2024

The Holy Land

Happy Friday. This morning, my wife and I slept in. I was still trying to figure out my new schedule after the recent time change. In the winter, I was in bed by nine at night and up by four in the morning. Now, the extra light at day’s end changed things. My desire to take advantage of the sun meant I would be awake later. I decided sleeping from ten to five might be the way to go.

After coffee, I took a walk into the pine grove and cut across a small trail that lead to the area my wife had recently cleared. She also cleaned the trail from dried leaves and twigs, making it easy to walk without making noise. As I made my way through the area and down an incline, I heard a soft single deer bark. Looking up, six deer popped up, quickly leaving. Apparently, they thought the newly cleared area was beautiful, too. After a hectic work week, seeing the deer and being in the forest washed all the busyness away. As the deer disappeared into the forest, things went quiet, both in the woods and inside my head.

My wife had a practical exam later in the afternoon, but she was off school for the morning, so she left to run several errands while I worked from my office. I opened the shades in my office, stopping momentarily to inspect the view. It was sunny, but it was supposed to rain later in the day. By lunch time, the sky had clouded up, and it was obvious the weather report which called for rain was accurate. During lunch, I made a quick run to the trash service center and dropped off several bags into the garbage receptacle and placed some folded boxes into the cardboard recycling bin. When I returned home, I parked my vehicle out in the open, hoping the rain would provide a free car wash and rinse off the thick layer of yellow pine pollen.

After lunch, I got back to work. I noticed it was raining lightly and after another hour; the rain started pouring down. Outside the window, I spotted one of the large red-shouldered hawks flying through the pasture and into the pine grove. A pair of these hawks nested nearby, and they always seemed to be out during the rain. Many times, I saw them sitting stoically on a fencepost while the rain poured. Maybe the water flushed out moles and mice that made for good hunting. I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that a large two-foot hawk sitting unflinchingly in the rain captured the raptor’s sense of beauty and mystery.

I turned my work computer off at 6:26 PM, almost a half hour after work was over. I had a few late things come in and wanted to resolve them before the weekend began. This week was one of the busiest I had in recent years, but the weekend was finally here. The rain had slowed, and I went into the woods for a quick walk.

I loved walking through the forest on a rainy day. The forest floor was damp and quiet, making it easy to move through the woods without making too much noise. I sauntered down the trail as a cool breeze blew into my face. The air felt refreshing and also signaled the wind was carrying away my scent, allowing me to approach an area without being detected by wildlife. When I stopped to listen, I heard the wind approaching from far away, as it rustled through the treetops slowly reaching me. When the wind arrived, it shook all the surrounding trees, dropping water droplets on my head and on the ground. After the large gust blew by, the forest went quiet once again.

While sitting at Beaver Tooth Rock, I thought about the opening to Henry David Thoreau’s essay, Walking, in which he talked about the art of walking or sauntering. In his essay, Thoreau mentioned some people believed the word saunterer came from the words “Sainte Terre”, which meant Holy Land. This was used to describe people making a pilgrimage by walking to a place they deemed special. Others believed the word saunterer came from the word “sans terre”, which meant having no home. While these were not Thoreau’s assertions, I wondered how anyone who ever spent a good deal of time in nature could believe that a holy land needed to be traveled to, or that any human could be apart from our home. This planet was our home, as we were all born from nature. And as for holiness, every square inch of it was right here where I sat.

While sitting at Beaver Tooth Rock, the water appeared to flow slower than usual, despite the rain-filled day. I was curious if the water was dammed to the west, so I gathered my things and made my way down the creek. The water on the west side was the way it had been for the past week. I guess it just hadn’t rained as much as I thought. The west side of the creek, however, was higher than this time last year. From the bank, I could see two new dams built by the beavers, which had affected the general direction and flow rate of the creek.

I made my way home, keeping a close eye on my wife’s position along her drive home. When she was thirty miles from the house, I called in an order to Pinos Pizza and left to pick it up. While I was paying at the pizzeria, I saw they were selling slices of cheesecake topped with strawberries, so I picked up a slice for my wife. She had a rough evening at school and I wanted to cheer her up. I thought my timing was pretty good as my wife arrived back at our house just four minutes before I returned with the food. Before I arrived, she texted me that the deer were in the pasture. As my vehicle approached this area, a deer shot out across our dirt road, while a second deer cleared the five-foot fence with ease right in front of me. I pulled past the pasture, where one deer remained feeding on the newly sprouted grasses. It was time to let go of the week and start the weekend. Everything would be right there waiting for us on Monday morning.