the talk of the trees

The pines reach into the sky with determination -- they are straight, narrow and top heavy with their boughs. Like enormous butterfly nets, they catch the breeze and in this moment they call out to me. Like the old wooden floor boards squeaking under your feet, or the wicker chair exhaling as you sit down, and the violin being tuned before the concert...W O W. I missed these sounds being on the plains. Yes, the cottonwoods sound like a rain as the winds jostles their leaves, and yes it is beautiful. But oh, the pines of my home state still my heart with their creaks and moans.

Who leaves the pine-tree, leaves his friend,
Unnerves his strength, invites his end.
~Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Woodnotes"

the joy in being present

adventure with dog

Last night, Coop and I explored parts of Littlejohn Island that we had not been to before. I pretended nothing was off limits and walked through the woods like I used to do before the big houses were built on the tip of the island in the pines. It was just getting dark and we were very quiet. 

It's amazing to me that when I'm out in the woods, exploring and getting dirty by myself, I feel the sparks of childhood still deep and strong in my soul. Why do so many people lose this as time passes? Business suits replace muddy overalls and suddenly wonder, imagination and silliness have vanished. I will never let this happen. Don't let it happen to you. 

The light before the sun set framed every living thing in a glow and we were soaking it up. Coop felt his animal instinct set in and his nose carried him from tree, to mud flat and beyond. I followed carefully and  quietly, enjoying every second of light before the darkness settled in for the night. 

this morning in Maine

I have not been posting a lot because I have been outside breathing in and out and in and out. The air this morning is heavy with dew and I feel like I can bite into it and swallow down Maine. It lives deep inside me.