It’s a gray day on the rail trail.
A stroll through a winter forest is a stroll through one’s soul.
-Robbie George
A light numbing-cold breeze dances over the exposed skin on my face. My fingers, although protected in thick ski gloves, are a bit achy in the icy temperature. The rest of me is snug in my down parka and rain pants over trekking trousers. There is about a three-inch deep blanket of snow on the ground, except on the trail itself, which is pocked with footprints. The snow is powdery and crunches underfoot as I walk along, providing adequate, although not perfect traction. Clouds of white waft in front me as I exhale from the mild exertion of walking on snow.
One could do a fine rendering of what I see in front of me, using only sepia ink on the whitest of paper – along with a dash of thin light green watercolor, here and there, to suggest the occasional presence of white pine drowning in a sea of spindly, barren, beige limbs. I suppose, the artist would also need a pinch of black to show Waldo’s sable birthday suit and the leash that connects us. Oh, and a slightly meandering path, about two feet wide, where the underlying tarmac has been exposed by some means of snow removal. It’s overcast, so no robin’s egg blue for the sky, and no yellow for the sun, is needed, either. Just sepia ink on white paper with a smidgeon of green and a bit of black is all the palette that would be needed.
It all feels so subdued. Mother Nature at rest. On today’s walk, I have only seen one squirrel, and he was just a fast, furry, beige blur, as he scurried across the trail and out of sight. No other denizens of the woods are out and about. No rabbits, no deer, no foxes, no chipmunks, no mice — no one else is showing up in the quiet stillness. I know there are birds that continue to live around here during the winter, but they’re not advertising their presence. No crow’s caw, songbird lilt or woodpecker rattle. It’s quiet.
Some animals hibernate, of course. But even some of those that don’t, go into a state of torpor when it gets cold out. It’s not as deep as hibernation and it doesn’t last as long, but it does conserve heat and energy. Songbirds are an example, as are raccoons and chipmunks. Many of those animals that do neither will still hole-up in the warm nests they’ve either created or found, until needs, like hunger, require them to stir. Then there are animals, like Waldos, who never do any of the above. Oh, it might be cold enough that they don’t want to go outside for long, but border collie energy does not abate by just laying around, you know.
I think people are somewhat similar to Waldos, although on a different scale, as we get cabin fever too. Oh, it’s not beyond us to fall into prolonged states of physical torpor, even take a nap, now and then. And when it gets nasty out, we do cloister away and assume trance-like states in front of TVs, computer screens or a good book (of course, bad weather is not a prerequisite for that). But, sooner or later, the bottoms of our feet get an itch and we have to go, not only because we need to feed ourselves, but because we need to get out and live.
Today, Waldo and I are out here in the cold and white and beige, not for survival, but to satisfy the need to do. At times, I’m here to simply put one foot in front of the other and be open to let life happen. Although Waldo is spontaneous, he’s always doing more than just walking. He’s looking for pee-mail, the perfect stick and the answer to that most disturbing of questions, what the hell is that smell? That’s something that I, personally, would often be more than happy to just walk away from. But not Waldo. It seems that, even in winter, if you have the nose for it, the odor palette is much more varied, and possibly enticing, than what nature offers the eyes.
The still, muted quietude of winter swaddles me as I walk along. Mother Nature’s repose penetrates into my soul and I can’t help but embrace her placidity. It’s a lovely walk, without riot of color, furor of sound, or distraction of movement.
It’s a wonderful walking meditation.
A nearly monochromic landscape.