I didn’t know I would miss being in thick timber this much. This afternoon, I went up to where the big trees begin on the mountain and simply entered into the forest to be with the trees, to get a little mud on the hem of my skirt. This is the first time I’ve driven Mink Creek since coming home and it was so tragic to pass by all the houses and juniper forest that burned up during the Charlotte Fire this summer. People are rebuilding. There are charred stumps and black tree skeletons reaching up and over the hills. So many homes were swept away by that fire. I’m always amazed when some sort of natural disaster destroys a huge city that is built on a fault line, or in reach of hurricane or tsunami — that level of chaos is beyond my comprehension. I get lulled into a false sense of safety in in the interior West. But the truth is, this is wildfire country, things burn to the ground during the fire season. Life is licked out of the timber, licked out of the land by forest fires, the way a dog takes water from a bowl. People suffer. I remember when we first moved here, RW took a look at some of the housing developments on the West bench in town and would say, every now and again, “All those homes will eventually burn…” The past fire season proved him right. I guess that natural disasters are a bit like a big bad wolf (no offense to wolves), they turn up from time to time, pound on the front door and threaten to blow your house down…it’s just a part of living on planet earth, so it seems.
I saw a dandy of a buck while driving — a six-by-six mule deer with two does! I cut a handful of douglas fir branches to bring home. I would have stayed out longer but I could hear something on the ravine rim above me, it seemed to be following me, walking parallel to my trail as I made my way along. Tater began to act strange, whining and carrying on, placing himself on the wrong side of my body when I told him to heel, looking anxiously into the trees above us. I couldn’t hear any bird song, whatsoever, which is always a good sign to me to get a move on.
——————————
There was snow here last week. It’s sloughing off now, running down the willow bark in tiny, bulbous beads, dropping into the creek flow and being muddled forever in a series of torrents that grow wider and wider as they flow West. Left behind is a forest filled with spindly textures and autumn colors flaring up between the steady green of douglas firs. I saw more robin nests than you could ever imagine but I didn’t take a single one home with me. I’ve become picky when it comes to nestering, a nest snob if you will, choosing to take only the prize specimens home with me. There was a series of weeks last year when I brought home three to five nests a day. Robert said I was out of control. In hindsight I think my nestering behavior was a little out of control. Do you ever have that happen to you? I mean, have you ever suffered a total loss of self control in the face of curious beauty?
—————————————
I feel so quiet right now. Whenever this happens, I fear my words have all dried up and I lament the loss of them until some glad, unseen moment arrives and they spring forth once more, like water from stone. It’s always surprising and relieving, to feel like a source again, to feel that rich surge of meaningfulness when I put pen to paper. In the meanwhile, I feel restless and impatient with myself. Sometimes it’s hard to take a little grace…a little grace just for me.
———————————————–
Also, for the sake of sharing all good things, I’ve been reading this, this and this (which never gets old). I can’t stop listening to this:
And this made me cry.
i cannot stop bringing home elk and deer antlers, feathers (today they were owl), and yes nests. i collect them, gaze upon them, and photograph them along with all my other lovlies (twigs, feathers, bones, stones.) sweet things.
Ah ha!!! We are cut from the same cloth. What kind of owl feathers today? OH MY GOSH. That reminds me! I have another owl story to share sometime!!!
Thanks for being here, Kerry.
what a lovely post. photos, words, et al.
and: you know i have difficulty leaving behind yet another rock, stick, feather, or bone. it all just comes with being a collector. those of us who belong to the wilds instead of civilization, well, we always want our wildness surrounding us in our houses. that’s just how it is.
We are collectors!!! It’s true. We’re like wild things stowing bones in our little caves. We’re like Rhubarb stowing squirrel tails behind the washing machine…
Rawr! XXX
a girl should always have a deep forest to romp around in
Where did you get that beautiful belt buckle? did you make that? gorgeous.
It’s vintage!!!
Though I have been known to make a buckle in my time…
Your lovely observations and thoughts transport me from my daily grind to the wilderness where I long to be. Your photos are a constant pleasure to see as well. Please keep bringing the clearness and honesty from the forest to your blog.
Darn the daily grind!!!
Thanks for being here, little beauty.
X
Firstly, your homecoming fleet has been blissful.
Secondly, the whole kit and caboodle — gorgeous photos (as always) your words…and…
AHEM…that slice of handsome, father john misty! golly, so good. he’s been on steady rotation!
I’m searching for a wee bit of grace myself. In time-in time!
XO, lovely!
That grace…it’s so hard to wrangle…like playing touch football with a watermelon covered in butter (whaaaaaaaaatttttttttt???).
Thank you, thank you, for your sweet kindness.
And YES. Father John. I swoon.
Do you think it was a cougar? As a southern New England girl, that freaks me out! We have coyotes and the very rare black bear, but that’s it. I’m sure that knowing there are predators in the wild is just a part of your life. Your wild is so much moe wild than mine.
Have you ever had a cougar encounter? I always wonder when I see photos of you out on the land.
Admittedly, I’m a wimp when it comes to bears and such. My father still teases me about my shriek of horror when we were in NH, and I thought I spotted a bear in a meadow. I was safe in the car, and had actually spotted a rusty barrel!
Love your outfit, btw. 🙂
It may have been a mountain lion. I saw my first cougar when I was five or six and my family was stationed at Sugarloaf Station in Riding Mountain National Park, Manitoba, Canada. I was walking down the park road with my dog beside me, and directly ahead of me, very near to me, a cougar walked out of the forest, looked right at me, walked directly across the road and disappeared into the forest on the other side. I actually didn’t know what it was at the time. When I went home, I told my father I saw a big cat. He thought I meant a barn cat. When I told him it was yellow and bigger than our dog, he sort of panicked.
I was very bite sized at the time. Come to think of it…I still am.
The first year we lived in this house, I saw a mountain lion run across the street and into the sagebrush while I was driving home at night — I was about 150ft from the house when I spotted it in the truck headlights.
If I let myself get too afraid of bears and mountain lions, I won’t go out…and that might kill me, slowly but surely. For me, to not be outside in nature would be its own kind of death. When I do go out, I always have at least one dog with me and to be frank, half the time I carry my Glock on my waist or strapped to my pack for easy access. Additionally, I pay attention to my senses and if I get a weird feeling, I trust it. I also trust my dogs. With all my heart. They’re my pack and their behavior tells me a lot about my surroundings.
And you’re right, the wild here is a very wild wild. 🙂
XX
Wow! I’m so relieved to hear you carry a gun! I’m a gun owner, too. Thanks for your reply! I told my husband last night about your post, and said if I lived out there, I wouldn’t venture from the house without guns and dogs!
Enjoy your day, hon.
I’ve only ever lived in the Canadian and American interior West. This is all I really know. The potential to meet large predator animals has always been a reality for me, ever since I was a little child. I don’t really think about it that much…just like I’m sure people who swim in the ocean don’t dwell on the idea of great white sharks…they just go out and…ARE.
🙂
The dogs are what make me feel safest though…unless I’m with a group of people. There’s so much safety in numbers. And besides, more often than not, shooting off an entire handgun clip won’t stop a grizzly bear. I’ve read a lot of stories about people trying to shoot their way out of a grizz attack and six bullets fail to stop the charge. !!!
That’s it, exactly. I’ve never had that be a possibility. I spent my whole childhood in the woods, packing a lunch in the morning, and not returning home til dark. I miss those days!!!
Erin, I was thinking the same thing and my started rapid-beating just reading that description of something in the trees. We live in Pennsylvania, and last summer my daughter and our dog had a mountain lion encounter in my MIL’s backyard in the Poconos. Fortunately, everyone left the scene quite a bit wobbly but OK. When people say Oh, mountain lions aren’t here, I just shake my head. Plume, your post was lovely as always. I so enjoy your blog and your photos.
Oh yes. There are mountain lions EVERYWHERE! They spot them fairly often on the river banks in Saskatoon, where I am from! It’s kind of shocking when they randomly show up. Glad your girl was unharmed!!!
Hi Laurie – yikes! I’m so glad your daughter and dog were not harmed!! The Poconos are so beautiful – I’ve camped there a few times.
Goodness! You’re a dead ringer for Meryl Streep in photo #3. You remind me of her in other ways too, come to think of it. Well, of my perception of her, at least, since we aren’t actuaaally acquainted. But it’s just obvious she’s made of the very best stuff. Just like you.
I too have known the stillness of the mountain lion. It’s truly a force. I still dream of him sometimes.
J,
Let it be known, I love Meryl. 🙂 Thank you.
I want to hear more about your lion story.
X
I’ll tell you all about it, someday.
Spoiler: I didn’t get eaten.
GUFFAW!!!!
Thank God.
Those red willow branches! You look stunning next to them. I’m reminded of the photo you took last year, of the two moose, heads together, peering out of those same red branches! I loooove that picture.
I’ve got an obsession with pine cones. ( and owl pellets and feathers and…)
Big pine cones, new pine cones, oozing, sappy, sticky pine cones. Red ones, brown ones, gold ones, burnt ones. Am I sounding like Forrest Gump? Boiled shrimp, fried shrimp, shrimp gumbo…ha!!
A nod to Annie Proulx and Black Beauty and I HAVE to see that movie! Thanks J. x
I KNOW! Aren’t the willows incredible right now? So zingy. Indeed! I remember that moose photo you speak of, they were such a beautiful pair. Cow and calf.
Do you ever find anything fabulous in your owl pellets? Mouse jaws? Rabbit femurs? 🙂
I can’t remember if you’ve ever mentioned reading The Meadow, by James Galvin, because I sure think it would resonate with you, with prose rich and crisp, of the thread that binds us to the land.
And, oh dear, that singing!
I haven’t read that! Just hunted up a used copy of it on Amazon. Cannot wait to read it. Thank you for the recommend!
XX
I love to visit you
and your words are so not dry….EVER!!!
love that you get your hem muddy, sometimes you just have to
it is a good thing
winter is descending…I feel her gentle hand coming upon us…I am ready for her stillness
love to you Miss Jillian
love and light
ps thanks for the hug : )
Oh, bless your beautiful hide.
Thank you Cat.
You are always so kind and encouraging. A good friend.
Winter does have a gentle hand. That’s why I love her so. She’s a real soul cradle.
XX
Oh how I love to be out in the wilds… and in all the beauty I tend to forget that, in that territory, I am considered prey to many. That is until I stumble upon some sign – a paw print, scat, digs – and suddenly all of my sences are awake and alive….. as if now I am a wild thing.
*senses oops!
TRUE!
When you go out into an ecosystem, you become part of that ecosystem! Actually, this is a feeling and a reality that is intensified for me when I am hunting…I am out there as a predator, but it also means I am prey. Kind of glorious and terrifying, isn’t it?
Someone wrote a blog post a few months ago, I can’t recall who or where, that asked a simple question: When do you feel most alive?
My answer to the question was when I am thrust into, forced into a survival situation…like when I am in a forest and know that a large predator is near to me. All my senses tell me so. My hair stands on end. The dogs have their hackles up. It’s like all my cells become twice as alive!
So true… and speaking of dogs – we have a new pup, a chocolate lab who so loves to be outdoors but is also young so any unusual sound or smell sends him scurrying behind my legs. That then sends my senses into overdrive – walks are interesting these days!
Funny, I don’t read this as a well dried up, but as a well overflowing. It may seem to you to be otherwise, but it feels as though Idaho brings it’s ebb and flow back to you- I’m sure you will be in your version of your flow soon. I love the words and images you share here and feel like getting some mud on my skirt hem too!!
Well, generally speaking, the well doesn’t feel dry…but my poetry feels stuck in my craw…does that make sense?
Being back in Idaho, in my home, in my home studio has been VERY good for me. I loved this summer, but I also love the stability of being home again.
Oh and I love that belt!! So cool…
Thanks toots!!!
I love how your blog always inspires me to get outside! There are days when I get holed up in my home and forget to get out and breath in the fresh air. I always feel so much more alive and inspired when I have taken in a daily dose of the elements. Thank you! Though some folks don’t acknowledge their presence we are experiencing a come back of large predators here in Missouri these days. Very exciting!
Oh yes. So important. I didn’t get outside today, too busy running errands in a nearby city…and my lungs feel sort of “squinchy” — know what I mean? It’s good for the soul, body and mind.
Yes. That’s exactly how my lungs feel. Squinchy. Could never define it. The lack of outdoors. The absence of the bright and beautiful. The missing of the wild. Squinchy. Yes!
Oh..being squinchy is one of the very worst things to be!
Every time I return to this space, drink up your words, spy through your eyes I remember why its so hard to leave, why you’re the plume of the hills and tall trees and wild grasses. I feel a grace being here, soaking up the wide open space (when all around me I can see concrete and roads and footprints). Thinking of you dear lady and sending our love…
Oh Wind.
There you are again.
Sweeping in on an arc of grace.
It’s always my great joy to see you here.
X
Amazing! Pictures, colors, YOU!