I felt like I got away with something this morning and it felt so good. Feeling willfully free this morning was exhilarating. Defiant in a most innocent way. I was headed out for a run without the treacherous block of ice that was formally my driveway. Spits and spats of snow still blow around but the birds are returning. Singing as they harken in mud season in Vermont…
The month of March teases us with thoughts of crocus and daffodils. The days have stretched longer. Late afternoon light bathes my family room in golden hues. Temperatures have begun to ping pong. Feet of snow now a recent memory. The local ski mountain clings on to just one more weekend before they close for the season. The parking lots a slush of mud mid-boot high. Mud season has arrived…
Locals are unflinchingly experienced in navigating this time of year. Our fifth season. Nonplused by newcomers’ complaints of being inconvenienced by nature’s indifference to their wants for ease of travel. Remote living in early spring takes some patience. Acceptance that nature still holds the cards is key. What seems to be merely a nuisance can turn quite perilous as the snow from the mountains melts and the rivers rise.
Elderly neighbors. A Wyeth-esq brother and sister who once lived in their comfortable home for the majority of their eighty something years. A lifetime on the same street and in the same town. A French book collection and homemade bread baked daily. A particularly harsh mud season just a few years back had water rushing through their home with force and without hesitation rendering it uninhabitable. Nature can be powerful, unrelenting and cruel.
Frost on the car as I checked the conditions outdoors for my run this morning. The Worm Moon still visible through the trees at the top of the hill across the street. Temps were cold but didn’t thwart my effort.
Yesterday’s early morning road conditions were challenging. Slippery umber colored mud slick as ice. I vowed to assess the dirt road when I reached it just a quarter mile from my house. A hard frost was a positive sign that the road would be passable on foot. Adventure is relative.
The road rugged with tumbled rock, deep ruts and waves of frozen mud. I knew that in a matter of hours the warmth of the sun and the rising temperature of the Earth would render this road treacherous and nearly impassable once again. But the moment was mine and on I went. The Earth solid underfoot while employing my trail running skills. Moving laterally to keep moving forward. Childlike and free.
A red jeep turned onto the road bucking and dancing until the driver located accessible tire grooves in the road. She smiled broadly at me. I understood her delight. We both had conquered the road this early morning…
As I turned to make my way back home, I paused. The beauty of Vermont and the most hopeful season were before me…
“Transformation is not accomplished by tentative wading at the edge” Robin Wall Kimmerer
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