Mid afternoon I walk into the kitchen at the farm. I am laughing, but water is dripping from my socks and my jeans are wet more than halfway to my knees. My boots are dripping on the back steps. The old wood stove is not amused. She says, “There is no hope for you. Sixty-five years ago you walked into the kitchen in the same condition. How many times must it happen? Explain yourself.” Well it happened just this way. I started the day out with good intentions. A farmer who raises hogs and lives close by showed up to take the last of our pumpkins and the corn shalks left over from our Halloween festivities to feed his pigs. Happy he was to get them and happier still I was to get rid of them. When he left the sun was shining brightly, the air was still, and I decided to go for a walk in the woods. And I found gold. It covered the trails through the woods. Fallen leaves of aspen, birch, and maple all in gold. I walked on a carpet of gold, and along the trails, the ostrich ferns were still standing tall, but their stems had turned to gold. And above the ferns, not so tall, were the little but very old ironwood trees clinging to their gold leaves. They will cling to them until spring. The wood stove interrupts me, “Seems to me your talking about fools gold. It is not bankable.” Oh yea, I know it is not bankable in the commercial sense, but it is bankable to me. And I tell the stove that I was so excited when I got to the small creek that flows from the little lake in the swamp to Mission Lake, that I knew I had to walk on. But there is no trail and I have to make my own. So? I laid my cane down where the trail and creek cross to be sure I could find it. I walked slowly as I used both hands to part the diamond willows and the red kinnekunick as I move my old body slowly along through the underbrush. I know what I am looking for, but I do not see it yet. So I walk on. Then in all their glory, I see them. The tamarack trees--a very slow glowing swamp tree--and the only coniferous tree I know that loses all of its needles at one time. Before they drop their needles, they turn to gold. and then quickly drop to the ground. Their needles are golden today and what a wonderful contrast to the emerald green of the spruce and cedar trees that share the landscape around the little lake in the swamp. Overjoyed I am. Well the old wood stove listens too my story and just moans. “Most people would say you were chasing fools gold and if your kids knew of your antics they might petition to put you in the home. We can’t have that and so I suggest you pull off your wet socks and jeans, get some dry cloths on and clean up the mess you made in the kitchen before anyone knows about your antics.” Oh my. I am taken aback. So I tell her on my next trip to the little lake I will wait until the ground is frozen and I will bring her back some cuttings from the red kinnekunick, the white birch, and the cedar trees to make a holiday arrangement. Anything I will do to please the old girl and to get to be able to take another walk in the woods. I trust you are finding some gold in your life today. And if you are, please share it. We all can use the inspiration.
Posted on: Sat, 02 Nov 2013 19:21:26 +0000
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