Field Notes: Winter 2024/2025

Breadcrumbs
“Shall we go this way?” I ask Asha at an intersection and walk several yards along the trail to demonstrate my question. To my surprise and delight, she agrees.
Most of this snowy trail is not well packed by walkers, skiers, cyclists or snowmobilers, so I trudge through four inches of slushiness, pausing frequently to catch my breath, and envy Asha, who runs ahead, sniffing animal tracks.
Familiar landmarks along the way are obscured by snow and ice and the cars sound louder, making the highway seem closer than usual, so I stop to get my bearings, to confirm that I am where I think I am.
I look left, the direction I plan to walk, and see a dotted line of beech leaves nestled in tracks. “Look, Asha,” I call. “The wind and woods have left us breadcrumbs.”
The luminous middle
Our walk began in rain and ended in sunshine. But the middle — in the middle, thousands of raindrops shimmered on wet branches. Each essential to the whole.
Oh to be such a light in a shining constellation.
Old question, new answer
“Is this the right way?” Cora asks as she turns left.
Cora, Sarah, their dog Bean, Asha and I had been walking along a narrow winding path, then ventured off, over a stone wall and onto a wider trail.
This question and I have become well acquainted through the many versions I’ve asked myself over the years.
These woods have taught me a more expansive answer:
“It is a way.”
The taste of snow
I scoop a handful of fresh snow and hold it in my mouth.
A second scoop,
and a third,
a fourth.
I taste
snow angels
and laughter, toboggans and ice ponds
wet gloves and cold fingers
snow days and shovels and cleats
snow pants and dogs
I taste
shades of white and quiet
quilt-stitch animal tracks
and dark tree branches against a pearl sky
You may also like:
Fall 2024 – No clues required; Every time the wind picks up; Postcards to the Woods #4: Moonrise at sunset; Texts and birds
Summer 2024 – Seen but not seen; Signs along the trail; With these quiet noticings
Spring 2024 – Small noticing, big impact; Scene: Woods in the Northeast; Momentum; Postcard to the Woods #3; The week of smittenness; Befitting of an adult?
Winter 2023/2024 – When the temperature drops; December full moon; Untitled snow note; Letting it be easier; A short exchange at the edge of the woods; How had I forgotten?