There is a pleasure in the pathless woods*
Another week of breathless routine began with church, followed by a lovely afternoon in the woods. The DH, son #2 and I spent a couple of hours pulling weeds and chopping wood at the camp.
While they did manly things, I wrestled with a nasty vine reminiscent of the one from Jumanji and this Kudzu covered house in Georgia.
Yes, that’s a house. I remember when Honeysuckle took over our back yard when I was growing up, but this is ridiculous. In any case, I did enough hard work to feel pleasantly stiff afterwards and we all enjoyed the fresh air.
It was late afternoon when I took this picture, hence the road was in shadow and the beaver pond still in sunlight. The sky was a gorgeous blue (the color of the water), but appears washed out in these pics. A beaver had been busy tidying the dam in the pond. Didn’t he do a good job? Unfortunately, because the pond abuts the road, trappers come as soon as they notice the presence of a beaver and that, as they say, is that.
I have nothing else to show for the week, which, as usual, raced by in a blur of classes, meetings, grading, and reading. It was not unpleasant; just too hectic to enjoy properly. Even the dinner I had out with a friend on Thursday evening was rushed, as office hours kept me away ’til six and she had choir practice at 7. Busy as we all are, it is important to find little breathers during the week. Right now, in my first year class, we are reading James Welch’s Winter in the Blood, which takes place on the Blackfeet reservation in Montana (yes, nowadays they make Blackfoot plural). It’s a sad, strange book, but the landscape — oh, my — I could live there, couldn’t you?
Between working Sundays in the woods (when I can get them), I refresh my spirit with beautiful things — anything from photos of landscapes like the one above, to descriptions of imagined places like Fuchia’s attic in Gormenghast or one of Byron’s poems. As much as there is “pleasure in the pathless woods” and the things we love, there is stress release. Have a great, stress-free weekend!
*Byron, “Childe Harold”, Canto iv, Verse 178