December 9, 2014 - Wall of Ice

These icicles form a frozen waterfall along a roadside and are a good 20 to 30 feet in height.  The rusty stains show the rich iron ore content of the granite.  It is literally a wall of ice, and it is just beginning.  How far it will go will depend on the weather this winter.

The ice is everywhere now and it’s starting to grow.  Obvious patches such as this one do not pose too much of a threat unless they begin to creep onto the road.  It’s the hidden patches of ice that are much more dangerous.  They are flat, can be anywhere--on a road or in the woods--and they are usually disguised by something, either a very thin coating of snow or some dead vegetation, etc.  Getting yourself into a patch like this can make it difficult to navigate, and getting out of the patch can be even harder because you can’t see where all the ice is.  Once you’re trapped, you just have to walk very slowly until you can find firmer ground, which is hard to do.

The wall of ice begins to grow.

So far, it has been a very icy winter as opposed to snowy, although we have had that as well, and winter does not even officially start for another 12 days.  My walks into the woods have been cut back some, and I’m hoping for a good layer of snow to bury this ice and remove the danger of falling.  As it stands now, every pine needle, every twig, every piece of dead vegetation--no matter how small--is covered in its own unique coating of ice.  It makes it beautiful for photos but treacherous for everyday life. 

The water runs with rust from the iron ore deposits.

December 8, 2014 - The Mermaid and the King

On what can only be called the most beautiful summer day, the King of Summer went for a walk along the shore of the ocean.  Everywhere he went, he was warmly greeted by his subjects with joy, for they loved their king.  He had given them so much abundance and peace.  So the seals happily barked at him, and the water birds sang out their strange songs to him.  The fish jumped merrily, and the clams all opened and stood at attention.  The forest creatures followed along the shore, and everywhere there was the feeling of a festival.  Even the wind was warm and kind, and that’s really saying something for an ocean wind.

On this perfect midsummer day as he walked along the shore, the King of Summer encountered a creature he had never seen before.  But how can this be? he wondered to himself.  Surely all creatures know me, and I know all the creatures in my realm.  Yet here was a creature the king had never seen until this day.  Combing her hair on the shore amid the flowing seaweed was a beautiful mermaid.  She was quite caught up in her task and did not notice the king until he was directly behind her, and then it was too late to jump back into the ocean.

Well, the king was immediately smitten as men always are when they look at a mermaid, but in this case she was smitten as well, and that was highly unusual.  Sea creatures do not usually have an attraction for land creatures, and their emotions are very different because they do not have fire in their passion.  But it was midsummer and this was the king and everywhere he went, he seemed to bring magic with him.  Perhaps that is what fascinated her the most:  the way the other creatures followed him spellbound wherever he went.

The frozen seaweed of the shore.

Whatever the cause, whatever the reason, the King of Summer and the mermaid fell very much in love.  It was warm then and the season was magical and they were every day together.  He brought her land treats to eat, things she had never seen before, and she delighted in the taste.  She brought him sea creatures from far below the waves that he could never have imagined, and she brought him many huge and perfect pearls as well.  Every day they traded new gifts and talked for hours about all the things would like to do together as time went on.  He would comb her long green hair, which was always tangled from the salt water, while she luxuriated in a warmth she had never known in the depths of the ocean.  It was the perfect love.

But time marched on and the great fiery disk in the sky that had cast so much warmth upon them began to retreat.  Each day the king would come to see the mermaid a little later and leave a little earlier, and this confused and worried her greatly.  The animals of the forest who had become her friends were whispering about a battle that would take place, and this worried her even more.  Land creatures were very strange and foreign, she decided, but still she came each day and combed her long green hair on the shore, waiting for the king.

Long talks became short exchanges.  Hours of looking into each other’s eyes became stolen moments, and the waiting grew longer and longer.  Now the mermaid was truly afraid and she finally asked the king what was wrong.  He was utterly puzzled by her question, and she asked again, explaining and pointing out all that had happened and all that she was experiencing.  Still, he was completely puzzled and could not understand what she was saying.  He assured her that all was well and he would always love her.  She settled for that.

The day came, though, when the wind was sharp and biting.  The animals of the forest were frenzied and could not spend much time chatting with her.  Everyone seemed to be running about except for the mermaid, who sat on the shore alone, combing her long green hair.  Now there were strange sounds in the air, and strange birds flew overhead and cackled about a terrible battle taking place in the forest--a place where a mermaid could not go.  Eventually, she heard the sounds herself, the crashing and banging and clanking of weapons.  It was a dreadful sound she would never forget.  Land animals were so strange!

Then everything was silent, and each day the silence grew more and more.  The king had not come to see her in a long time, although she still came to the shore every day when the rest of her kind deep in the ocean had swam to warmer places.  The animals of the forest had all retreated, and none of them came to visit her anymore.  Even most of the birds had flown away.  She was all by herself on a strange shore in a strange and cold world.  Yet still she came daily.

And then the last day came.  She arrived on the shore and started to comb her long green hair, hoping the king might surprise her.  Instead, the wind grew terrible and very suddenly blew icy gales against her.  Her long green hair flew wildly about her as she stared out into the open ocean, which a held a sky that was almost black.  The ice came instantly, and it was something she had never experienced before.  The wind threw her violently against the shore, and her long green hair tangled hopelessly with the seaweed all along the shore.  There her hair froze immediately, tangled in ruthless bonds with the frozen seaweed all around her on the shore.  Alas, her cries could not be heard over the icy gales, and in a very short time, the mermaid died on the shore, frozen to the seaweed.

Winter was long and harsh and unforgiving, as it always is, and the mermaid’s body was soon washed out to sea.  Her hair remained though, tangled completely with the seaweed, and no one knew what had happened.  No one could have guessed that the mermaid would still be coming to the shore at this time of year, but then all the creatures who had known her were land animals, so how could they know she had no knowledge of the laws of the solid Earth?

Well, nothing lasts forever, even winter.  Eventually, the icy gales grew silent and slipped away.  The ice on the shore loosened, floated off, and melted.  Birds returned and began to fill the air with song again.  Forest creatures came down to the shore again, and everyone was talking excitedly about a battle that had taken place and the return of the king.  He was coming back, they said!

And he did come back and he brought the magic with him again, as he always did.  Days turned warm and sunny and long.  Beautiful scents filled the air.  Insects hummed, fish jumped, and the wind was soft and caressing.  The world was perfect again.  But where is the mermaid? the king wondered.  He walked up and down the shore, looking for her.  Every day he came to the spot where they used to meet and waited for the mermaid to return.  Every day, he thought of her longingly with a mixture of love and grief.  He would pick up handfuls of the green seaweed that was tangled with the mermaid’s own hair, although he didn’t know that, and he would comb it absentmindedly, hoping she would come back.

But she never did come back.  He waited all summer, visiting every day for as long as he could, but she never returned.  He could not understand why, and his heart was heavy with sadness and grief.  He would look longingly at the wavy green seaweed on the shore and think of his beautiful sea creature that he loved so much, and he was never quite the same after that.

In the forest they say that the King of Summer was even fiercer in battle than before, although there were still some battles he was bound by the laws of Nature to lose.  He still provided handsomely for all of his subjects, but he no longer walked freely among them.  Some say he could be found now and then on the shore, combing out the seaweed and searching for something.  No one dared approach him during those times.

It is the nature of land creatures to follow the laws of the land, which are with them as part of their birthright, and it is the nature of sea creatures to follow the laws of the sea.  The creatures of the air have their own lofty rules, which they too must follow.  And the fiery disk in the sky, tremendously powerful though it may be, has its own rhythm to keep as well.  Each creature must obey its own nature and follow the laws given to it at birth.  No creature may live in a realm for which it was not fashioned.  There are rules that even gods must follow.

But that never stopped love.  Love never obeys the boundaries.  Up and down the shore all day, the waves hug the land and the land meets the waves with open arms.  It is a dangerous game they play, a game they can never win, but it doesn’t stop them from trying.  Opposites may attract, but they do not make two of a kind.

December 7, 2014 - Gratitude

I think I watch the animals more in the winter than I do in the summer.  Winter is the difficult season, and because it’s such a long season here in Maine, it can be very hard on some people.  I love it, but I must confess that summer is an easier time of year.  In summer, there is no shivering and no constant unconscious tightening of muscles when outside, which leads to pain and spasms later.  In summer, there is no extra clothing to think about, no chapped and cracked skin, and no precautions to take, other than sunblock, and the sun is not that strong here.

But winter, winter is the time of hardship.  I like to watch the animals because they take the season so gracefully.  Although they are better suited to their environment than we are, they still have hardships in winter.  Food is scarcer and it is not fresh and so does not contain the same vitamins.  Ice and frozen mud can cake on fur and cause difficulties, and exposed areas such as the comb on a chicken can get frostbitten.  Yet the animals take it all so gently, so gracefully.

Gratitude.  I think that’s what it is.  They are overflowing with sheer gratitude for any situation in which they find themselves.  Gratitude is the hidden key to abundance.  Misery, sorrow, and ungratefulness attract more of the same in life, I think.  Perhaps on occasion Nature would like us to say “thank you,” or at least behave as though we are thankful.  It seems whenever I am grateful, I receive more.  It’s like loving an old woman’s cooking.  If you tell her you love it and express true gratitude, she will always fill your plate again and again.  I think it works the same with Nature, and it is only we who make it more complicated.

Peaceful little lamb.

December 6, 2014 - To Simply Live

The animals do not need to adapt to their environment because they are their environment, or at least an intricate part of it.  They cannot be separated from it.  They were born into a world in which they fit perfectly.  They do not need to wonder what they will eat or how they will live or even if they will live.  They are born and they simply live.  It is enough.

How many people would give a small fortune to have that comfort in their heart?  To just know that being born, being alive, is enough.  It is all that is required, and the Earth is our home and provides food and shelter.

But it is not that simple, you say.  And I say, it is.

At home in a wintry field.

December 5, 2014 - The Philosopher's Stone

Mother Nature, the Great Alchemist, transmutes the world before our eyes.  She does not transform things, she transmutes them.  That is to say, it is not the appearance or character with which she is concerned; rather, it is the very nature and substance of a given thing that fascinate her.  She plays with the substance and the nature of the universe, effortlessly creating her philosopher’s stone with which she conjures gold and concocts the elixir of life.

I have long believed that water is one of the great keys of the universe, perhaps the greatest.  I, too, bow to the all-powerful sun, but it is the energy of the wave, which continually reinvents itself, that may one day change our entire view of the universe.

In the meantime, we have but to look at the ice around us to see the magic at work.  Water comes to us in the form of gas and then liquid and then solid.  Three states of matter:  one substance.  (He with ears, let him hear.)  At boiling point, water transmutes to a gas.  At ambient temperature, water transmutes back to a liquid.  At freezing temperature, water transmutes to a solid with an ordered crystalline hexagonal structure that is considered a mineral.  When the ice melts, it absorbs a tremendous amount of energy as the hydrogen bonds break.  This energy is the heat of fusion.

She’s toying with us.  Not only do the physical transmutations teach us the key to our own physical possibilities, but the spirit within us calls for redemption.  It is not just the light from the ultimate One unmanifest that can redeem us, but it is the light hidden in the very matter and forces around us that whispers the question over and over, “Can’t you see the philosopher’s stone?”

The visible transmutation.

December 4, 2014 - Best Friends

This is a special pair that comes to visit me often, and I always see them together.  It’s a gray squirrel and a turtle dove.  They are very good friends and often help each other.  As you can see, the squirrel has broken the thin ice on the grass.  This is directly underneath a bird feeder.  Doves like to eat on the ground and they eat almost exclusively seeds, whereas squirrels will eat a variety of things just about anywhere.  The squirrel has freed the seeds that were trapped under the ice, and now the turtle dove can eat them.

She helps him, too.  I have seen larger squirrels or other animals threaten this little squirrel, and the dove will actually pretend to be injured with a broken wing.  When the predator is distracted from the squirrel by the dove’s antics, the squirrel escapes.  Once he gets away, the dove flies off and the predator is left with nothing.  This is real cooperation!  It’s also true friendship.  Turtle doves (also known as mourning doves) will build their own nest, take an abandoned bird’s nest, or use a squirrel’s nest.  It does not have to be a bird’s nest.  This sets my mind to wondering.

They get along quite well together.  I know it’s a bit unusual because animals usually stick to their own kind, so I’m not sure how this partnership came about.  The best part, though, is that these two are the least afraid of me out of all the wild animals that come to visit.  They both stay when I come around and just nibble and stare at me a bit.  If there’s no food left, they’ll come right up to me and squeak a bit to let me know.

If this kind of cooperation can exist between different kinds of animals, just imagine what we could do if we set our minds to it.

The squirrel and his turtle dove.

December 3, 2014 - Sweet Little Cardinal

Now that the vegetation is dead and gone, the birds transform themselves into flowers in the winter to give us beautiful color.  They are flying little flowers.  Though many have gone south, including my favorite the hermit thrush, some still remain.  I might not have paid much attention to this cardinal on one of my bird feeders a few months ago, but now I can’t take my eyes off him.  There are dozens and dozens of brilliant red cardinals (males) and the browner females who come to visit me daily.  Doves and chickadees come as well along with tiny little finches.

The master of the bird feeder, of course, is the blue jay.  He is a very aggressive bird, and when he comes all of the other birds fly to a safe distance.  He tolerates no guff from other birds, and woe to the bird who tries it.  Dozens of blue jays come and hop all around the white snow, with the cardinals surrounding them.  It’s actually very patriotic, this red-white-and-blue combination, moving and changing before my eyes!

It’s a feast for the heart, though, and I have always had a soft spot for birds.  Their colors are made even more brilliant by the white snow, and waiting beneath the feeder are my squirrel friends, who pick up all the discarded seeds.  Winter may be a season of death, but if you are willing to share your harvest, you will be surrounded by more life than you can handle!

Sweet little cardinal on the bird feeder.

December 2, 2014 - The Sprites' Horses

Now and then Old Jack will tell me a story about the people who lived around here before the Age of Machines, and I always enjoy hearing these stories because they ring truer for me than today’s two-dimensional attempt at myth-making.  We were walking through a crow-infested field (I told you about how they follow him) in mid-fall, and we saw a couple of horses running.  I didn’t think much of it until he said, “There goes Miss Sandish and Kitty.  A bit early this year if you ask me.  Better leave extra hay out.”

And it goes like this:  There was a young widow named Sandish who had a little daughter named Kitty.  They were both sweet and kind people who had fallen on some very hard times when Sandish’s husband died unexpectedly.  Sandish’s family lived very far away and she had nowhere to go when her husband died.  They had only recently traveled to these parts and didn’t know many people.  Their plan had been to start a homestead, raise a family, and start a new clan here in the North.  All of those plans came to a crashing halt when Sandish’s husband died.

Sandish and her husband kept many fine horses--some said they were the finest in the land.  They were just beginning to build a very good reputation with their horses, and through that reputation they would make the money and friends they needed to start their life in their new home.  Now that Sandish’s husband was dead, she was not sure what to do and didn’t trust her ability to do it without him.  Mind you, she was the one who had a way with horses and not him, but she didn’t have the courage to do it alone.  Add to that the sheer weight of grief over the loss of a loved one, and you can imagine how things stood idle for much longer than they should have.

Now there was a very shrewd and wealthy merchant who lived several towns away and he had heard of the beautiful horses that Sandish and her husband were selling.  He had also heard of her husband’s death and decided he would come and try to get the horses before Sandish got any ideas of raising them on her own.  He was fiercely competitive and more than a little jealous of their newfound success. 

Oh, he swept into town like a prince!  He came to see Sandish, lavished her with gifts and praise, gave constant condolences to her on her loss, and generally just slid right in like a snake.  Since she was still overwrought with sorrow over her loss, she was not paying as much attention to this charlatan as she should have.  It felt good to have someone lavish her with so much attention, so she ignored any warning signs she might have seen and became fast friends with this merchant.

One very cold and wintry day, he suggested to Sandish that she should take a small holiday.  He promised to care for her horses, and he offered to pay for her trip.  At first she said no, but the idea of getting away from her problems was so alluring that before long she found herself saying yes.  In no time at all, he had everything arranged.  One of his men would come for her and her daughter in a fine carriage and bring them to the sea.  There they would sail away for a warmer climate and then return in the spring.  Sandish and her daughter packed quickly, and within a day they were saying their goodbyes to the merchant.

They could not know what fate awaited them, and I’m sorry to say it was not a sunny and warm climate.  The carriage driver took them far away from the village and then off onto a lonely road.  The light of the day was beginning to fade when he abruptly stopped the carriage, opened the door, and forced Sandish and Kitty out.  He kept all their possessions and gave them nothing at all, and then he urged the horses on quickly so that he might return to Sandish’s home.

But that was not the worst of it.  Back at her home, the evil merchant had rounded up all of Sandish’s horses in the stables.  He brought plenty of skilled horsemen with him to help him get the horses back to his home.  Even with all their experience, though, the horsemen were having trouble because these horses were not quite trained as ordinary horses.  They responded best to Sandish, who seemed to know their language, and they were very edgy and jumpy with these new men.  Still, they were finally able to get all the horses out and ready to go.  The merchant was very pleased with this and bid them to fly like the wind through the night back to his home.

Just as they were leaving, the carriage driver returned.  He was driving his horses mercilessly because he wanted to return before complete nightfall.  As he rounded the bend, he spooked the waiting horses and two of them escaped, running quickly off into the meadow.  The merchant watched them and decided they were the most beautiful of all the horses, and he wanted to get them back.  It was not enough that he had all the other horses, which were now leaving peaceably enough with his men.  He became even greedier than usual and insisted upon having the two horses that had gotten away, now obsessing on their beauty.

In the meantime, Sandish and her daughter began to try to walk home.  They weren’t certain where they were and they were freezing.  The moon was full, so at least they could see and they trudged on.  Ah, The Fates are strange at times, though, and they sent a terrible snowstorm to Sandish and Kitty.  The two tried to shelter under some trees, but Sandish knew that they would die.  She wept bitterly at her stupidity but tried to hide it from her daughter.  She held her tight and began to croon to her almost as she did to her horses.  Imagine her surprise when two of her prized horses came trotting up to her!  There the four of them stayed under the shelter of the trees, and Sandish could see that the horses were terrified as well.

Now the sprites of the woods were all active on this night because the moon was full, and they were so very attracted to all the emotion coming from the trees.  They giggled with delight when they learned of Sandish’s predicament and offered to help.  They told Sandish that only two of them might leave alive.  In this way, they would save Sandish but on the condition that she would teach them how to speak to the horses.  Imagine their surprise when Sandish immediately said to let the horses live and not her and Kitty!  Oh, they were livid!  Now she’d gone and ruined everything!  They expected her to be selfish and self-serving as most humans were!  Now they were in a predicament for sure because the Moon Magic required them to fulfill their word or forfeit their powers.

At last they admitted they were outfoxed and they consulted The Gump, who was amused to no end.  Sandish, her daughter, and the two horses were given a strange drink, and then the two women each got up on a horse.  “Fly like the wind!” The Gump said, and the horses took off at incredible speed.  As they ran, Sandish and her daughter felt very strange, indeed, almost as if they were running themselves!  Through the night the transition took place, and by morning Sandish and her daughter had each merged with their horse.  This fulfilled the sprites’ deal:  Only two could leave alive.

As they neared their home, who should they run into but the evil merchant himself and his carriage man.  The snowstorm had hit them as well, and their carriage had overturned in the snow.  Two of their horses had gone lame, and the other two had died of cold.  The merchant was so very relieved to see the two beautiful horses trot up, looking as fresh as they might have on a fine spring morning.  He immediately called the horses to him, and to his surprise, they obediently came.  Even more surprising, each horse allowed a man to climb atop it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The merchant breathed a sigh of relief and urged the horses forward.  Before he could think another thought, however, they took off at breakneck speed for the woods!  No amount of slapping, yelling, or kicking had any effect on the horses whatsoever.  They flew as if they were bewitched, and if truth be told, they were, indeed.  On and on they went until they came to deep, snow-laden ravine.  There the horses stopped abruptly and threw their riders off into the deep snow.  The two men screamed and yelled, but the horses backed quickly away.  Then the two men begged, and the horses just snorted and ran off.

I probably don’t need to tell you that the merchant and his carriage man froze to death there.  The sprites were patient and waited by their sides until each breathed their last breath, trying to enlist the help of these odd fairies, who despise the selfishness of humans.  When they died, the sprites took all of the merchant’s gold coins, and he had a great many of them!  They melted them down and made two little gold horses from them, which they placed on a boulder that marked the entrance to their woodland homes.  They were patient sprites, if not a bit odd, and somehow they decided that eventually the gold horses made from the gold of a horse thief would teach them the language of horses.

Old Jack says that as long as the gold horses are still there and the sprites are still waiting for their secrets, Sandish and Kitty will be running through the meadows.

December 1, 2014 - Swings

Two empty swings face the Androscoggin River, waiting for children to come.  Day after day as the snow falls and the wind blows and the ice grows, the swings wait silently.  Memories of joy and laughter still ring in the air, but the people are all gone now, gone to warmer climates, and the swings wait in empty anticipation.  They are always ready to go; they just need someone to get on.

The swings are a reminder to us, a reminder that there were warm and playful days in the past.  They are a reminder to us that those warm and playful days will come again in the future.  What of the present, though?  The past is done and over, and the future has not occurred and is not set in stone.  What do the swings do in the present?  For me, they are a reminder of potentiality, of what can be--not just in the future but at any time.  They are a reminder that days do not have to be perfect and warm in order to enjoy them.  Days can be cold and wet and difficult, but they still carry their swings with them and we can still swing.

Many a time I have donned a very thick coat with thick leggings and boots.  I have gone to the swings, brushed the snow off them, and with my scarf tied tightly around my neck and lower face, I have swung and swung.  If we look for perfect or exclusive days, we miss so many opportunities to swing right here and now.  There’s a swing waiting for you every day.  You just have to get on it, push with your feet a bit, and then fly upward.  It sounds a bit complicated, but once you get on, it will all come back to you.

Two lonely swings at the Androscoggin River.