David and I went for a walk today in the warm, wet woods. There was a bit of snow several days ago, which had left a crust of white, but it was nothing that lasted, and all washed away in the rain we’ve had since. We were talking, as we almost always are, and the topic today has been a pretty consistent topic — what are we doing, how are we handling this passage into a life without very challenging jobs as a central organizing factor, how do we balance family, friends, consulting work, play, creative ambitions, etc. etc. etc. Yes, sometimes we are very etc. etc. etc. but we both are, so it works.
We took a turn off our usual woods path, towards the marsh that opens in the woods north of Canterbury Road. And there on the path, right where the decades-old cars are rusting into oblivion beside the trail, was all that’s left of the snow around here, a snow man, covered with oak leaves. Who made it, why here, and what’s the metaphor?
The next metaphor was easier to figure out. We were deep into etc. etc. etc. as we walked up the east side of Narrows Brook, looking for a place where we could cross and get to the woods road that would bring us back to Canterbury Road. There were occasional logs across the brook, but they were all narrow and slick with the day’s earlier rain. Rocks bridging the span of water were scarce, as the brook is running high, and mostly covered with ice. We kept bushwhacking upstream and finally came to a place where the span of rushing water narrowed, and there were ice-free rocks to provide secure footing across. The brook bed and rocks were ringed with goblets of ice along the water line, but there was plenty of clear surface for crossing. We crossed, and made our way out of the woods.
Grace Mattern 