I’ve been mulling over the idea of mosaic structures for the last few days. A mosaic art form of random and diversified pieces of interest arranged to create a picture of life itself. The instructor I had throughout my Master’s Degree often talked about life as a tapestry, in which individual threads were woven within the fabric. Those threads and broken shards of ceramic or glass are intricacies that make us who we are. And those intricacies of course hold both the brilliant facets as well as the whispered pieces we like to keep private or secret. Therefore, some of it is visible, and some of it is hidden behind other, more prominent aspects that are in the forefront. Together our lives are synergistic in the way that the parts together construct the whole of our existence.
I’ve heard it said that our lives are metaphorically composed of seasons, blended into foundational stories that create us. It’s probably a bit more simple than that for me. I just love the seasons. I love the winter for the air’s crispness and the chance to measure yourself with the elements of cold, wind, and snow. I love the spring for the air’s freshness and the newness of life rising up from the roots, a personification of what we often term as second chances. I love the summer for the air’s warmth and the opportunity to cast a line, or dive into liquid water. I love the autumn for the air’s pungent smell, and the hint of change as plants die back into dormancy and living organisms hunker down before the return of winter.
Each season has its draw and purpose, and as a life-long resident of the Great Lakes Region, it’s ingrained into the very fibers of my DNA. Regardless of the seasons, I run, read, and am outside as often as possible. I like to spend time on my own, but I also enjoy spending time with family, and friends; these days seemingly from a safe distance, out-of-doors, or on Zoom.
Yesterday, with the deep snow we’ve had this winter season, my dog Kora and I headed into the woods on snowshoes after meeting up with my friends Justin and Scott. We enjoyed talking and working hard trudging along through the bottomlands of a local river. We’ve done this sort of thing enough times over the years that when we set up our day camp to cook brunch, we all get to work on the chores necessary to complete a successful trip. It was good food, beautiful scenery, and great to have to use our snowshoes; especially on the doorstep of another storm as we added another eight inches of snow to the accumulation last night. (pictures of our trip to the woods below)
When I got home from our outing adventure yesterday, I put a whole chicken in the oven, took a walk with my wife Cindy, and then laid down for a quick nap. I also made the decision to get my long run in for the weekend, and ran 10 miles; finishing as the first of the storm’s flakes began to fall. After cleaning up, I pulled meat from the baked chicken and added it to noodles and a creamy mushroom sauce that Cindy had prepared. It was a perfect meal to eat while sitting and relaxing together after a busy day.
When I reflect on days like yesterday, I picture those mosaic works of art, or the tapestries of woven threads, and see clearly the aspects that make me who I am. Sometimes I jump into adventures or interests when the opportunities present themselves. At other times I think I push myself from activity to activity until I don’t have a lot of energy left, simply as a way to deal with stress. For some reason this process is relaxing to me and restful; whether it’s voraciously reading through a book, completing a long distance run, or snowshoeing the winterland.
May you find the venues that make you tick, and that are a part of the larger mosaic or tapestry of your life.
I’m not rushing the process. In fact, I border on savoring the process. I prepped my gear last night and then this morning I put it together and hiked into one of my absolute favorite spots in this (Illinois-Wisconsin) Stateline area. The ridges I hiked, the bottomlands I traversed, and the riverbank I now overlook are sacred. It’s that simple.
Oftentimes I come into an area such as this, and after making a fire, cooking, and then eating, I am left to wonder what just happened as I hike back out. While I enjoy every opportunity to head out into the woods, it’s times like that when I wish I’d paused long enough to simply take everything in, sense it on all accounts, and not be in such a hurry. I guess in those situations I typically feel as though I should have stopped and smelled the roses. Today I’m doing just that.
I took a few pictures, but not like I usually do. Instead I set up my phone and made a simple video of what has become routine at this point. I let it run and only paused it a couple of times until the battery died. It will be interesting to watch it on the flipside of this outing. It will document what I do; from fire to meal.
So I am left here next to the fire. My dog Kora is beside me on her flannel lined blanket as we share a fleece. She stares out into the woods keeping watch of any movements and things unseen by my own eyes. My boots and gaiters steam from the radiating heat, and the river water in my pot boils in preparation for my second cup of cocoa. In the meantime I write. It’s what I like to do.
Today it’s what I want to do, because we’re about to enter a long stretch at school as we continue to push onward. I feel as though I need this time to gather myself before the wintertime marathon. Getting out here is my fuel; where I can hear the crows, geese, and eagles in the distance, and the breezes rattling the remnant leaves as they move through the bare branches. For this I am thankful.
We have today off from school in honor of Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday. While I am grateful for this day off in order to be where I am today, I ponder what propelled him in those difficult circumstances. As I sit on this riverbank, deep in snow, listening to the hiss of the dying fire, I am left to wonder in awe at a man who with character and ambition pushed onward beyond doubt, fear, pain, and the exhaustion against seemingly insurmountable odds to work for something greater than himself. Fighting with love, he worked for and talked about what a model of freedom could look like; a battle that was a hundred years in the making since the mark of the Civil War.
Although Dr. King had spoken of this dream for equality several times beforehand, on the day of the “March on Washington” in 1963, it was said that he had taken some of the ideas behind his “dream” out of his speech. Thank goodness for the encouragement from Mahalia Jackson who reminded him of his dream while he was in the middle of talking from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Following Mahalia’s comment, “Tell them about the dream Martin.” he paused, laid aside his prepared notes, and spoke from the heart. Imagine that. Imagine the courage; a courage of confidence and knowledge of what to say, and how to say it.
That my friends is bravery at its finest. Imagine what was going on behind the scenes. Yet, despite the hatred and ignorance around him, he ventured forth and continued on with a team of support behind him, and a mass of humanity before him. What a legacy of love, sacrifice, and servanthood. For a people. For a nation. Thank you Dr. King for what you spoke then and continue to teach even now, almost 60 years later.
Today, beside my fire and its embers, Dr. King’s legacy is definitely worth thinking about and contemplating with reflection. It leads me to think about my own growth, character, and maturation. I savor that process of understanding.
See you along The Way...
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CLICK BELOW FOR THE VIDEOS THAT FOLLOW WHAT I DO TO PREPARE FOR MY FIRE AND MEAL
PART#1
PART#2
(To watch the videos you may need to change the "view version"
It’s an idea that’s been rattling around in my head of quite some time now. Last night it finally came into fruition. Perhaps it was fueled by the thirty some Joe Robinet videos I’ve watched this last month. I do enjoy watching his adventures out in the woods. Between his various shelters, the Northern boreal forests, and genuine love of the outdoors, I find them engaging. Or perhaps it’s again linked to my own lifeblood of having grown up in the woods Up North with a connection to nature. Either way, I pulled the trigger and headed into the snow to camp out. True, it was our wedding anniversary, but we’ll celebrate on Saturday when the family gathers, so with Cindy’s encouragement, I started packing.
I elected to use my Kelty (Arcadia) tent. While I would use a tarp underneath the tent as a layer of protection from the snow, I decided to take my two foam backpacking mats (That I would lay down side by side), as well as a self inflating sleeping pad. Over that I decided to bring a thick and heavy blanket used to protect furniture when you are moving. Since it was supposed to get down to 18 degrees (colder in the low spot we would be camped), and my newest sleeping bag was only good to 50 degrees, I brought two and would put the newer sleeping bag inside of an older and bigger flannel-lined bag. On top of this I brought a wool blanket to be the cover for both my dog Kora and me. Although I planned on clearing away as much of the 8 inches of snow as possible, I didn’t want the cold to creep up and make the night miserable.
For dinner I brought a can of beef stew that I had leftover from a past summer trip with my cousins (two cans remain), a clementine orange, and a slice of bread to mop up any residual gravy. For breakfast I packed two pouches of instant oatmeal with a small container of raisins that I added for a surprise ingredient, along with two more clementines. Three packets of hot cocoa were included, to be used as my hand warming drink of choice (picture hands wrapped around a mug). I put water in three different insulated bottles so I could heat it up for the oatmeal, cocoa, and also add it to Kora’s dog food to give her something warm before we went to bed.
In addition to the clothes I would wear, I brought along my running tights, a polyester shirt, my new fleece lined polyester pullover from school, and a thick pair of wool socks; all fresh, dry gear to sleep in and avoid starting off chilled from what I would be working in as I set up camp.
As extras I threw in my ax, saw, head lamp, and mini-mag light, along with some books and journals. Ironically I never needed my lights as the reflection off from the snow was more than adequate to see in, and I never read or journaled because it was too cold to venture outside of the nest I created.
CLICK BELOW FOR A VIDEO OF MY GEAR:
(To watch the video you may need to change the "view version"
at the bottom of the page)
I left at 5:00 last night after organizing my food, cooking gear, and extra clothes within my backpack. The rest was lashed to a low rimmed sled that I have. The holes I drilled, along with the rope I added a few years ago, held the gear fast. Unfortunately I had packed Kora’s leash and collar. She does listen well, however, so I just had her walk out in front of me and I watched for traffic as we walked down our street and out of our subdivision. There were no cars, but she was slightly freaked out by the sounds of the sled I was pulling over the black-top. Visions of the Grinch came to mind with his little dog trying to pull the sleigh piled high with toys. I allowed myself a slight smile of what we must have looked like.
We made our way down to the strip of woods near our house that hugs a wandering creek. It’s not the coniferous woods of the North, but it’s not our backyard either. It would have to do despite the constant roar from the thousands of vehicles traveling a couple of hundred yards over on the inter-state tollway.
I was sweating by the time I had dragged my gear to the designated spot. It was tough sledding as they say. To sweat is not a good thing in cold temperatures. I peeled off my thick flannel & fleece lined coat down to my sweatshirt and went right to work clearing snow from the base of my favorite silver maple tree. It’s a massive tree that sits on the bank of the creek; a perfect place to camp. Against the white backdrop of the snow, I could see easily and pitched my tent. This allowed me to clear off the sled and throw the rest of my gear into the tent for later, and then begin the process of starting a fire. For several years I’ve collected rocks from the nearby fields, so I used these to make a fire-ring, and then began collecting firewood. I was able to use dead limbs that were stacked around in brush piles. With some dried grasses I collected from the creekbank, coupled with dryer lint from home, I quickly got a fire started. I put my pot of water in the coals to boil and placed my pot of stew on one of the bigger rocks to begin heating. While I was working I went back and forth, collecting wood, taking pictures, and warming my hands. I never stopped moving. Imagine that!
Kora and I inhaled our dinner. The phrase “scarfing down” came to mind. Afterwards we stocked the fire with wood and sat for a few minutes staring into the flames; enjoying the heat. Kora doesn’t particularly like being by the fire, but if I’m close, and between them, she relaxes a bit and doesn’t seem to mind. Our old dog Kati, on the other hand, would practically lay beside it, because she enjoyed both the heat and the chance at any food offered to her that happened to be cooked over it. I found it fitting that she was buried in close proximity, on a bend of this creek. She would have absolutely loved this adventure, and Kora would have enjoyed her company.
CLICK BELOW FOR A VIDEO OF MY WINTER CAMP:
After letting the fire die down, I grabbed the remaining gear and put it under the fly of my tent. Next, I assembled our bedding in the order I described earlier. I changed into my dry clothes for sleeping and then we hunkered down. Kora was a little confused at first; that we weren’t going home, but settled in quickly. My toes were an issue when we first went to bed. They always are. I think I counted out about 500 toe crunches to get my blood circulating. Once they were warm, I stayed toasty the rest of the night. I was pleasantly surprised!
Sleeping itself was intermittent. I woke every hour or two during the night. I had to be completely under every layer that I had, with the sleeping bags tucked in behind me to prevent any cold drafts. I slept in a prenatal position (not easy to do within two sleeping bags), and had to wake periodically to change from one side to the other. In addition, the moon showed through the thin layer of clouds, so it was pretty bright, and the roar from the cars and trucks was pretty loud. Oh, and each hour leading up to midnight, the local neighborhoods would celebrate and send off fireworks. Kora was not a fan. I did get up at midnight to usher in the New Year, and take a picture of the moon through the bare canopy of the silver maple. It was a reminder that even in the midst of what we may see as our darkest hour, there is always hope!
I woke for good at 6:00, began packing the gear in the tent by 6:30 and was out starting the fire by 7:00. We ate breakfast and then I started “stowing away the tent.” This process, along with repacking the sled, took quite a while. In fact, once I was finished, gulped down my final cup of cocoa, and grabbed onto the rope to begin the trudge back home, several hours had gone by. I walked into our garage by 10:00. The gear traveled well all lashed down. My only complaint was from my ax that I had slipped down through a loop on my pack, as it wore a small hole through the nylon. It looks cool to hang an ax on the specially designed pocket of a classic, old canvas pack, but apparently not on mine, I’ll have to figure out how I can patch that.
After another hour of unpacking, laying things out to dry, and starting a load of laundry, I finally took a deep breath and sat down. Following lunch, I slept for a solid hour, and Kora has hardly moved all day from the tight little ball she’s slept in since we returned. I suspect she’s feeling content, as am I, after such a cold weather adventure as we had, while looking forward to our next outing. It was a great camp out while ushering in the New Year.
