This was the perfect day for an 8.2 mile hike - my first longer-than-5-mile hike in weeks. What a difference a day makes. Yesterday I was ice hiking in rain. Today I spent my hike negotiating mud, flood, and slippery rock surfaces. Even with today’s obstacles, I covered in 45 minutes what took me over an hour yesterday. Don’t tell me it’s not spring - mud season is when snow melts faster than the earth can absorb the moisture, just before the sap starts to rise.
Sitting in one of my lakeside spots, I wrote: I’m back on the sunny rock. The mullein stalk and twiggy shrub bend in a southeast breeze. A gust of wind kicks up and a thin pine tree squeals - almost whines as the air moves it. Most of the trees are tenors, a few are altos - but this tree is really high pitched - almost glass shattering. The creek makes vigorous gushing sounds; ripples are visible where it flows into the lake, melting a pathway through thinning ice. Chickadees and nuthatches call.
On the way out this morning my scent spooked a doe. She burst out of the mountain laurels, bounding deeper into the woods, white tail held high. A dark thrush-shaped bird darted past. Is it possible that some robins now winter over this far north? I know cardinals now winter in the northeast; they didn’t 40 years ago. I have lived long enough to see major changes in wildlife behavior.
I’ve been composing Fannee Doolees as I hike. I love word games and I love ZOOM. I have three writing assignments to work on, each with a distinct purpose, different format requirements and different tones. I needed this long hike to let the words sort themselves out.
Hiking is an essential part of my writing process. I love to sit in the woods and write, but even when sitting outside is not an option, I need to hike. I need the rhythmic movement of walking and climbing to ensure that my brain has time to let ideas, thoughts, moods and information weave in and out of each other and work their magic.