Gold Gleaner

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IMG_3453 IMG_3599 IMG_3677 IMG_3688 IMG_3733 IMG_3814 IMG_3489 IMG_3516 IMG_3542The higher I walk in the mountains, the thinner the air, the stronger the sun, the colder the wind, the sharper the stone.  All the thinness, strength, coldness and sharpness rub up against me like a blade on a grindstone and I’m sure my surface wears away until I am a strolling core, a vaporous center, a balanced twig teetering on the fork of my thin legs — a wispy soul-shaped thing they call the spirit.  A slim, wavering sunbeam on rickety grasses and green waters; as eternal and finite as any living thing.

I’m a gold gleaner.

I want to scoop the world up in two hands and press it to the smooth slopes of my face.  Wash my eyes and cheeks in the purity of chroma before I step forth into a religious rite.  This land is my cloak.  I wear the wind draped over narrow shoulders and the wildflower bones are a belt about my waist.

This is a clean place.  I want to be clean, too.  Rubbed free of my rust and brokenness so as to meet with God in a high place in my most natural state.

I reach out and run my fingertips along the mustard yellow feathers of the tamarack; the trees are fledging out of their own skin, made jumpy by their own wild displays of color.  Each leaf that drops, each needle turning to duff on the forest floor rings like a bell on impact.  The forest is a choir.  I know the words to the song by heart.  I sing along.  My voice bears wings, one thousand wings, and on each wing tip, a steady flame.

Down on the water I catch fish, tease them with the long loops of my line, flick tiny bugs at them until they bite.  I bring them to my cold, chapped hands, carefully slip hooks from their lips and marvel at the way their wet skin reflects sky, stone, tree and my own bright eyes, drunk on seeing deeply in this empty space.

Comments

  1. Jillian, why has some publisher not funneled your beautiful words and images into a book? Someday, I know I’ll hold your book in my hand…and love it. Our larch here in the Flathead Valley are turning more gold by the day but aren’t quite as far as where you were hiking. Isn’t October the best? P.S. Poor Tater…hope those quills didn’t hurt too much.

    • *Blush*

      It will hopefully happen someday. In the meanwhile, I just keep working on writing.

      Dogs and porcupines usually result in total backcountry disaster for us, however, I was SO thankful Farley wound up with quills only in his arse. They were tremendously easy to remove. It usually takes us days of work to get quills out of his face.

  2. Those golden trees climbing up the rugged grey mountainside – my word, is that ever stunning.

  3. Such a glorious season! It does bring out the best in all of us. But….are those quills I see in someone’s butt? Hope the poor little guy is ok. xx

    • He’s great. They were very easy to pull. If he gets quills in his face it usually takes three or four people to hold him and a pair of fishing forceps to remove quills over a three or four day period. I thanked God these quills were in his rump.

  4. Your words leave me swooning with longing. Gorgeous.

  5. Beautiful images from both photos and words; I agree with Diana, we need to hold your book in our hands. Something to look forward to.

    I am reminded of the time we had to pull large cactus thorns out of our Irish Setter’s nose, not just the outside but the tender parts.

  6. you are a mere wispy elf of colour, yourself, out there amongst the golden grasses and needles….
    bless you for blessing MY spirit with your words and photos.

    x

  7. Kris in WA says

    Jillian,
    Everytime I come here… my spirit is lifted!
    Such beauty! Wow!
    Thank You!
    Your special!
    XX
    Kris in WA

  8. Love the hat! Do you know what the pattern is called?

  9. 10-second timer? With the fishing rod? If so, that’s impressive. If not, brilliant photography nonetheless. Thank you for the gold : ).

  10. Oh! Just stunning… and such beautiful musings… as always xx

  11. Tamaracks are at their best when preparing for bed. Such a pretty series here.
    Glad you could go out.
    xx

  12. Phew! I was going crazy with no blog updates. Your posts calm me in the same way your mountains calm you. Thank you for sharing your beautiful thoughts.

  13. Catherine Chandler says

    Such beautiful words and images, my dear. I love your gathering of reflective images, with golds/blues/greys/whites/and bit of green. Also–is that Farley’s bum with the quills? Yowch! Those are never fun to remove. Sending you all love!

  14. Elizabeth Waggoner says

    You’ve captured the feeling of the mountain forests so beautifully. To feel yourself just wrapped in it is both healing and energizing, and to be there at the peak of the colors is a blessing indeed.

  15. I am in the same boat with Jen—- I miss when you don’t post as your pictures and words soothe.

  16. Such a wonderful post. Thanks for sharing. There is an opening at the university in Ellensburg and my husband has dabbled in the thought of applying. I show him pictures of the Cascades and ask how can you pass that up-it is only a car ride away. But I think we’ll be stuck in this concrete jungle for a few more and forced to visit the mountains through your eyes. My day will come. I am patient.

  17. Another glorious adventure! I am saving my pennies so I can visit Idaho & Pacific Northwest one day. And some of those pennies will be for a beautiful piece of your jewelry. Thank you again for all the beauty and blessings.

  18. I know I’ve said it before, but, damn girl- what a life you lead- love it!!! And, love you for sharing the beauty in such delightful ways. So, my new plan is to get a grant, grow a community garden with the kids, buy a teardrop and head West this summer. Yup- and, find a camera to document it all- ah, just a few things- your images, words and zest for life have me loving Idaho and the West even though I have NEVER been there. Aho, dear!!!