Saved By the Woods

Though it’s been awhile since I posted to this blog, the urge has recently struck me again, so here we go. It’s feeling more like spring by the day, though it’s a bit premature by UP averages. It’s been a long winter, hell, a long year. We have all felt the effects of COVID 19 on our daily lives. We’ve all had to consider the risk versus merit of any and all outings. We’ve been at home, for a year. It’s hard to be sociable when everyone you meet, particularly the many choosing to forego masks, could be a potential vector.

There has been suffering. Half a million families have lost a loved one. Families have Zoomed, rather then celebrating or grieving together. Students have Zoomed instead of learning in a classroom, and reports have it, that hasn’t gone entirely well. Front line workers, like cashiers, delivery people, healthcare workers, and many others, have continued to work, necessary to pay the bills and put food on the table, while a large portion of the population can’t be troubled to wear a mask to protect those providing them with services. I have felt heartbroken for these workers, as they have no choice or say in the matter. Such an unimaginable lack of respect for fellow human beings.

Through all of this, on a large majority of days, Niko and I have walked the woods. He never loses his enthusiasm, I try to follow his lead. He is enthralled each day by the recent scents of all the forest creatures, marking the ones he finds most interesting. On one of our walks, I came upon a magnificent old hemlock, tucked away on the southern boundary of the property. It must be well over 100 years old, given it’s size. It is different from the other hemlocks, of which there are many, in that it grew alone, without a canopy to challenge it. It grew with widespread branches, from base to tip. The branches at the base span an area 40 feet across, which makes for a sizeable clearing beneath it. A few small balsams are trying to give it go in the clearing, but given their size, they are recent, and likely won’t last long.

As I stand in this clearing, or rest against the rough old bark of this huge tree, I can’t help but think of the time that has passed as this majestic elder has stood in silence. It was a relative youngster when the Spanish Flu ravaged the US, and now it has stood through a second pandemic. Few humans have likely stood beneath it, given it’s obscure and difficult to navigate location. It’s days have been filled with sunrises and sunsets, changes of weather and seasons, and the traffic of the many forest creatures. It has known peace, for longer than I have been alive, and will continue in peace after I am gone. As I stand in it’s clearing, I can’t help but feel this peace. Surely there is something to be learned here. I return frequently, and always there is peace. For this magnificent tree, I am grateful. During a time when peace has been scarce and fleeting, the woods provide.