Week 10: Their small corners...

Tree House - Wilson Falls Road.

Do you remember how the last line of that old Sunday School song goes... "You in your small corner and I in mine..."?  Oddly this Susan B. Warner hymn surfaced in my mind tonight as I saw a young chipmunk scurry away. He has built tunnels everywhere in the back garden which this summer I have given over to the wild for the butterflies, birds, bees - and chipmunks, of course.  And so there he went disappearing into one of his several and immediate escape routes, cheeks stuffed to the limit with a peanut supply brought specially for him and his family by my nature-loving pal, Wray.

I have been looking out to see where exactly 'Chippie' lives this year - if he is still, after two summers, occupying the large dry protected space underneath the back shed. Reflecting on the connection between seeing him scamper away and recalling the childhood hymn, more vivid memory links flashed by - these ones from walks over the past week.  In just 5 or 6 days, I had glimpsed 3 white-tailed deer, a couple of raccoons, a dozen hens, a beaver, [heard] a symphony of frogs, [smelled] a skunk, spotted two mallard duck couples and a mother duck with her 6 goslings following in a wavering ribbon behind her. And, I saw my gimpy seagull friend again - now hopping about solely on one limb and carrying his other, now entirely withered leg, high up under his wing.  As you can see it has been quite the "Wild Kingdom" sort of week here for me in Bracebridge.  And with true maternal instinct all this made me wonder where these furred or feathered creatures live.  Where do they sleep?  How safe are they?  Do they live somewhere different in the winter?  Do they migrate, hibernate? How do they keep warm? What do they take into consideration when they go 'house hunting'?  And the real mother-worry: are they getting enough to eat?!

“You in your small corner…”.  Where ARE their small corners?  I have let my imagination run with it this week, wondering what it is like to be a raccoon or a deer in the wild, living in the woods, eating food made available by nature. In most cases, I don't know the answer to any of these questions.  I do occasionally look up related topics on the internet: 'bear habitat' or 'the lives of songbirds' or listen in on Dr. David Suzuki or at ‘Ducks Unlimited’ but for the most part it is all a mystery to me.  Walking day after day, meeting these fun, graceful animals and birds, catching them lying about in trees, paddling in rivers and disappearing into hollowed out holes along the shore of the Muskoka river, I have developed a curiosity about them as individuals, wondering more about the lives they live. 

I have been facing my own housing issues, unsure if the building where I live will be sold and whether I will need to move this year. So I guess I am a little more tuned in than usual to the whole housing question - location, safety, comfort, transportation routes, quick accessibility to the countryside and grocery shops. Part of me envies the animals and birds to no end; living by the river, free to choose the site of their lodgings for the season and with open access to an ‘organically’ grown food supply. But, I know they don't have 'central air' or heat, or dry beds to sleep in and their food is a little harder to get than a trip to the local 'Metro'! In many cases they work relentlessly to build their homes; faced frequently with the reconstruction of partially completed shelters destroyed by storms or wind - again and again - until they are fully complete and secure. Some homes display weavers’ skills that would make any fine artist proud, featuring strands of wool, grass and bits of paper intertwined with twigs.  Some animals are crafty and wary in choosing safe, secret, well-hidden burrows. Some, using the river for transportation, find hollowed tree trunks, abandoned summer docks or huge tree roots for their homes. Still others make food their first consideration, living close by to their next meal.

One of the obvious implications of this heightened sensitivity to the creatures living in the wild is simply that when we get out and walk in 'their' world, we begin to appreciate the importance of our role in preserving it all, respecting the space they require to live and renew their populations, protecting the water that many of them use not only to drink and bathe, but for transportation and housing, not usurping their wild berry reserves because while we can wander off to ‘Vegeez’ or the Farmers' Markets to buy plump, locally-grown strawberries or blueberries, these little creatures depend on what nature provides for them seasonally.  And of course it made me remember how important it is not to leave behind refuse in their habitat or frighten them unduly in the course of their daily routines.  We really do need to empathize a little; recognize that these sentient creatures have lives to live - and families - just as we do. They need our help - not our interference.  And it's not hard to find the desire to do so - they are all so very delightful to observe and provide such great entertainment.  It's an honour to get even small glimpses into their daily lives.

There are many little 'corners' out there, but only one planet earth and we all, creatures great or small, have the right to live out our lives in our respective spaces - in health, safety and happiness, raising our families, enjoying the seasons and living our lives fully. Forgive me if I have gotten carried away this week.  No soap box lectures intended. Just a note to myself about ‘balance’ and 'sharing'.  Simply a connection to an old Sunday School hymn, "You in your small corner, and I in mine..."    

Thanks for travelling with me on my footpath this week ...

Gillian

BBPP Weekly Health Check:

Mind:  As the weeks go on and the walking trail miles add up, I experience more and more connections - almost a flood - between what I see in the wild, the total of my life experiences and whatever direction I may be headed in the future. It's as if the mind has been none too patiently waiting for the opportunity to simply think and reflect.  Our minds, it seems, need to walk as much as our legs at times!

Body:  Bypassing the usual 'measurements' this week.  No scales, no bp monitors, no pulse rate checks.  As one friend said, 'it's only important how you feel; how your clothes fit'.  Will resume the readings next week.  

The Artist Soul:  One of the most beautiful sites I continue to see is the reflection of sky, tree and rock upon the surface of the Muskoka River.  Almost more beautiful than that which it reflects.  It can be mirror clear, rippled or hazed and muted by fog.  Then again the reflection can be dissolved into a hundred separate circles by raindrops.

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Week 9: Then suddenly our hair falls out ...

I'm having one of those senior 'moments'.  It's lasted all week.  What to do...what to do?

Every time I think I have this 'age thing' figured out and feel all peaceful again about it, something new riles up the stew.  This week it was a photo.  Of  moi.  I just could not reconcile the mental self-portrait I have kept protectively locked inside my head with the (oh-ma-gosh-can-it-possibly-be-true?) photo someone else had in theirs when they snapped my pic last week.  I'm in shock. Okay, the spreading hips, I knew about.  Even the chicken-waddle chin.   But going bald?  There it is in living photo-colour:  a deeply receding hair line.  I've been down in the dumps all week about it. My hair falls out  everywhere these days; I knew that.   I now shed more than my old long-haired calico ever did;  knew that too.  But I THOUGHT it was growing BACK IN,  replacing itself, keeping up the time-honoured practice of RENEWAL.  As it always has. Always DID. Oh, my VERY SINCERE apologies to you brother Paul  (and to all men) when I ribbed you years ago as you became obsessed (I thought) with growing baldness.  I said you looked handsome, distinguished. I  told you it shouldn't bother you.  I said, 'For goodness, sakes, what's a little hair, anyway?' I take it ALL BACK!  This week I understand.    

It's vain, I know, but it's more than vanity.  I've really had enough of this growing old 'gracefully' business.  I admit not much can be done about it.  I  admit it must be accepted.  What is hard, very hard, is accepting one's perception of self during the dramatic paradigm shifts of age.  We go through  change of one kind or another all our lives and it's pretty much okay up to an extent.  We leave high school for university.  We leave university for jobs.  We  leave our singlehood for marriage.  And we leave our free time in favour of the full involvement of children and families.  Sometimes we leave our jobs for  other opportunities, leave our towns, our homes, even our countries and move on.  Throughout it all we are changing, in ascendancy, moving TOWARDS newness, new experiences, enriching our lives. It is all FOR something and we continue to GROW.  When we let go of some things, it's to receive something new in return that helps us move along further in our lives.

Then suddenly our hair falls out.  And we feel empty-handed. Life's path takes a turn and there is no choice but to stop and view the 'picture' acknowledging something  new is afoot here.  It's been a few days now and I am almost over the hairless-babe photo-shock.  I'm thinking one of the things that makes our acceptance of age-related change more difficult is the prevailing language and perceptions about what is happening at this time of life. We always  concentrate on 'loss'.  We speak of 'losing' our memories, our eyesight, our hair, our hearing, our mobility, our self-reliance - even our teeth!  We 'lose' our  children as they leave the family nest and make their own way in life.  We lose our jobs in retirement and sometimes along with them our sense of selves, prestige, worth, collegial rapport.  And, sadly, we lose members of our own family and our very dear life-long friends.  No wonder we feel we are somehow diminished and have arrived at the beginning of a depressing 'end'. 

What we need to do, what I am going to try hard to endeavour to do in the months ahead, is let go of what is lost and get better acquainted with what has been GAINED and what is AHEAD in life. There is a lot building on that 'plus' side of life's score sheet besides a spreading butt and hips.  There is deeper perspective, patience, experience and depth.  There are widening terms of reference in our lives.  We have greater clarity, certainty, compassion and insight.  We often are blessed with more time. We see things in broader, more universal terms and along a stretching continuum. We have greater humour - we have finally 'gained' the ability to readily laugh, foremost at our own serious selves.  And, we have learned by a certain age that we can now no more live like two-fisted cookie eaters than we could as kids.  With both hands full, how can we eat?  So today I am letting go of all the old self-perceptions - hair and all - focusing instead on the plus side ahead and looking forward to taking a big bite out of the cookie of life.  

Thinking this all over I can now breathe again.  In.  Out.  What a relief!  Instead of feeling I have to exercise to keep up and be as good as I once WAS; I  can look forward and exercise to be all that I want and hope to be in the years AHEAD.  I don't need to keep up with anyone, not even myself.  I  discovered this week that I no longer walk 4 miles in an hour as I did half a lifetime ago, sailing through the streets of downtown Toronto back and forth to work - 8  miles a day.  Google Maps tells me I can hike to Wilson Falls and back in seventy minutes.  Google I love you darling, but even adjusting generously for a longish lunch break, I accomplishd little better than six miles in FOUR hours. I can report to you though that in letting go of speed I 'gained' a great deal.  I saw more - a deer sprinting into the forest from a water break down by the river, a racoon curled sleepily in the high up branch of a pine tree, a pair of old-married mallards floating near the fish hatchery, a porcelain white kitty dining on tall tender grasses and a lazy old beaver floating the river's current.  There were wild strawberries growing everywhere.  Orange blossoms to breathe in.  Bird songs to hear.  New trails to explore. And sticky pine resin along the way for aroma therapy.  And I enjoyed it all - every life-giving bit of it - and more than I ever have.  All at this new slower speed; not only age-adjusted but age-enhanced.

When working on quotes for my greeting card line this week, I came across one that sums this all up for me:  "What the caterpillar calls the end of the  world, the master calls a butterfly."  [Richard Bach].  If heaven's caterpillars can negotiate their rather spectacular change of life, then I will plan to try SOARING through my own.  You betcha!

Thanks for travelling with me on my footpath this week ...

Gillian

BBPP Weekly Health Check:

Mind:  Finally getting comfortable with some of the camera's functions.  Working with the landscape button and focus and metre modes. They all do make a difference when remembering to use them, which is starting to happen more regularly and naturally.

Body:  I dieted dutifully and in health all week long.  Walked daily, hiked at least 6 miles yesterday.  GAINED 3 pounds and my bp shot SKY HIGH. Oh, well. Mustn't give up.  Steady course ahead...

The Artist Soul:  There were wonderful connections this week with abundant wildlife on the trails but the best thing of all was drinking in the scent of fresh orange blossoms - my most favourite fragrance on earth.  And I found them just steps away from my front door.  Heaven. 

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Week 8: It is a quiet walk...

Of all the wonderful walks I have enjoyed in Bracebridge, my favourite by far continues to be along River and Wilson’s Falls Roads. Have you walked it yet?  No?  Oh, do!  Stretching about 2 miles from the historic downtown section beginning at Taylor Road right up to Wilson Falls, this section of the Trans Canada Trail takes one gentle twisting turn after another as it hugs alongside the North Branch of the Muskoka River.  It is accessible and beautiful regardless of season.

This trail, even more than others for some reason, seems to be so much about life.   And the seasons of life.   There is the winding river itself and the bustling wildlife maintaining homes along its banks.  And there is the ribbon of trees stretching the entire length of trail - one non-ending string from beginning to end.  I am made freshly aware each hike out that no two trees seem ever to look just alike, no two greens ever seem to quite match entirely.  And the emeralds of the towering pines and deciduous forest leaves reflect back in even deeper saturation up from the river’s still, end-of-day waters.

Everyday there appears to be a new wildflower or weed about to burst open adding a new colour to the mix of the landscape.  And the fragrance – oh, this time of year on a hot sultry evening, the perfume of trees, and wildflowers and wood and water fill you right up full.  There is no perfumery anywhere capable of reproducing the heady fragrances of the woods, banks and waterways along that section of river edge. Beginning with the bushy lilacs at Anne Street still redolent in spring bouquet but sharper now with summer heat, to the very end of the trail at Wilson Falls and mineral scents rising from rushing waters.  Every turn the aromas change as the flowers and wild shrubs mix and re-assort themselves.  There is absolutely nothing in the medicine cabinet or in the wine cellar to equal the healthful mellow and soul-soothing affect of all that.  Now, after walking the trail for some time, I mentally note the small roadmarks along the way – the rough summer docks floating in wait for a canoe or kayak to reappear; a charming tree house ladder leading up to lofty, leafy heights with full river-view seating; the striking drama of the bleached smooth boulders at Bass Rock, and further on, a hidden lookout point, a favourite spot for young lovers sitting closely in peace to talk away into the fading evening hours.

It is a quiet walk.  Somewhere to empty out the days concerns, let go of the weight of worries and free the soul to see and drink in all there is. Tonight, only 2 cars pass, 5 people and one very special golden retriever, panting in obvious delight at the start of summer and new things to chase.  And a lone beaver out for a swim, more of a float really.  Have you noticed what graceful swimmers beavers are?  How expertly they dive straight down deep into their den vestibules?  This little guy tonight seemed content to let the river carry him effortlessly along.  Until suddenly, his attention caught by something entirely unseen to me, he scrambled up onto land, scarcely two feet away.  Thankfully his interest didn't stop at my feet but rather he found something beyond my vision and carried back his secret prize to water’s edge, diving sharply home with it below.

This time of year the walks are mostly joyful.  It feels so good to walk winter tightness out of bones and muscles and drink in a little natural Vitamin D.  Everywhere there is evidence of nature’s determination to grow, expand into any available nook and cranny and thrive MADLY.  Sadly though, death is also part of life’s seasons and tonight on my way back home there lay a very beautiful and well-fed gray squirrel, dead not more than a few moments from auto impact.  Still perfectly formed except for the small trauma to her head, the mother squirrel lay there bright-eyed with her beautiful white belly exposed. It was hard to believe, looking at her soft gray fur, that her last breath had been breathed.  I lifted her warm body, carrying it over to a tree by the river’s edge, settling her down for a final rest amongst tall grasses and small flowers.  And I covered her.  Every life in death deserves privacy, respect, dignity.

Walking in nature for me rights a lot of wrongs, mends wounds, coaxes out the heart’s joy and opens up the eyes wide to the little things in life I just never otherwise notice.  Now, please, don’t get me wrong.  I am not, repeat NOT, a ‘Miss Merry Sunshine’ kind of gal, seeing light and love at every turn.  I AM a growingly cantankerous woman ‘of age’, thoroughly set in my ways, and determinedly more so every advancing year.  And I plan to remain just so, thank you, kindly.  But these walks in nature surely soften the roughly hewn edges of life.  They are an opportunity in an otherwise busy world to listen, see and feel life with one’s very soul.  To connect with the natural world of which we are part.  To gain a renewed sense of where we are in our own personal continuum of time.  To glimpse for a moment, place and purpose of life.

I hope you will all tie on your runners, pack a water bottle and head out onto the trails near you real soon.

Thanks for travelling with me on my footpath this week...
Gillian

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NOTE regarding the Wilson Falls Trail:

If you are driving there, try any of the many free downtown parking spots near Taylor Road.  However, check any parking limits that might apply.  Or you can arrive by the bright red Santa’s Village Trolley (say hi to one of it’s drivers , Irene, well known for her friendly smile and cheery disposition.  One of Irene's runs is along Taylor Road. She'll point out River Road and the TransCanada Trail if you like - just ask her!  Trolley rides are  just Saturdays for now but start daily runs beginning June 19^th until Labour Day weekend.  The schedules are listed at many trolley stops. Or come by rail via the Ontario Northland service… it arrives just steps away from Taylor Road.  An excellent Ontario Northland bus service to town, arrives at various times daily at the southern end of town (Riverside Inn) closer to 3 other walking trails and a couple of parks that I will tell you about later as summer goes on.  Happy Trails!

BBPP Weekly Health Check:

Mind:  It was definitely a case of matter over mind this week.  I do NOT like the humidity.  Heat's okay; humidity not so much.  Just hours before the heat wave ended last week, I thought my nerves would crack - but a long walk with my camera around Bracebridge Bay removed all the prickly nettles that had been stalking about in my brain!  Walking is good for the body, the soul AND THE MIND!  And so is taking pictures!

Body:  Down ANOTHER 2 pounds.  Yippee!  Blood pressure now firmly lowered into the normal range.  High normal, still. There's a ways to go yet.  But how encouraging.  All without pills.  All from the joy of walking about with nature in beautiful Bracebridge.

The Artist Soul:  There were a lot of moments this week.  A little girl about two years, called Boomie who allowed me to take her picture in all the glory of her pink-everything couture, an older couple with their arms firmly wrapped about one another - still lovers in their older years, looking squarely and quite surprisedly into a beaver's eyes from scarcely two feet distance, drinking in the tree-reflection beauty of a hundred shades of green shimmering in the gentle ripples of the Muskoka River.  But the biggest connection was one with the heady scent as I walked in the damp evening heat along Wilson Falls Trail.  It was filling, fulfilling and carried within it so many stories.