Spring already

March 10, 2019

I left work early, which very rarely happens. I took it as a sign that I should fully enjoy the rest of the sunny day ahead of me. Really make the most of it. I rushed home -according to the legal speed limit of course-put pup in the car and headed straight to one of our regular spots. Into Oregon we went, to hike a trail we’ve experienced many times before. A trail we both love because of its exclusivity and equally lovely views. As I drive down the road in the early afternoon it’s exhilarating, it’s truly the first warm day in what feels like forever. As I pass the field where the cows and horses graze, I’m pleased to discover an entire harem of elk. The size of them is reminiscent to their free-range hoofed counterparts but they are wildly their own species. I’ve seen elk dozens of time throughout my life, but each time I get a zing of excitement- as if it’s my first time seeing such beauty. The telephone wires to my right somehow blend into the landscape I’m speeding past, parallel neighbors to the trees growing near the shoulder of the road. Every few yards there is a red-tailed hawk perched on the drooping wires- staking out a realm of territory to hunt from first days’ light to well into the night. It’s technically still winter, but it’s as if the world around me has recognized that spring has started already. The warm weather is bringing out the best in everything, and the birds are chirping louder than I’ve heard in some time- a sure sign of the changing of seasons.

We finally arrive to our destination. I throw on my pack grab the leash and hit the trail. We pass through a field with giant Scotch broom taller than me, and ancient nurse stumps with swirls of Salal bursting out. We meander in the forest for some time, past the wood sorrel, sword fern and tree trunks thick with moss. As we reach a dip in the trail I jump over the creek to the other side, and I’m suddenly inundated with the fresh smell of sap, of cut trees. I look around and notice that there must have been a winter storm, as there is debris tossed about everywhere; limbs and branches here and there. All around me the light penetrates through gaps in the canopy above- revealing tiny stationary particles floating above my head, and as my gaze wanders, throughout the rest of the forest as far as my eye can see. Each delicate wisp caught on a yellow beam of sun- ever so slowly making its descent to the leaf strewn floor. Looking closer I soon notice that some of this natural micro-litter- tiny pieces of lichen, bird dander, spider webs, insect exoskeletons and pollen, amongst many other things- are actually gnats. Their bity wings moving quickly as they zip about, blending into the lifeless aerosols around them. I focus my vision and notice delicate spider-webs stretched across the trail in front of me, glistening in the light- a clue others haven’t been this way in some time.

He’s always a couple steps in front of me- his four steady paws scouting our move through the woods. He darts to the left, and veers down an embankment to our familiar river spot. He knows this place well- as it’s one of his favorites. He waits for me- a slightly impatient stance-as if saying “mom, what’s taking so long”. I quickly follow after him to check -and sure enough it’s the right place. His hound nose never fails us. Even when months pass between our visits he still knows where to go. We sit along the bank drinking water- me, from my Nalgene- and him, fresh from the source. I’m so completely at peace right now, and as usual we’re the only ones. When I look all around me there is a full understory of green spring foliage and an abundance of moss clinging to every surface. The water in front of me is a white froth with little bubbles swirling down, catching on one collection of rocks, only to bounce into the next just a couple feet down stream. The sound is loud, but it belongs here. It’s a part of this viewshed- completing the full story of this intricate ecosystem. This noise is natural, as are all the other components that create this spot. In that very moment, I feel that my dog and I too belong- somehow welcomed to enjoy the serenity if we promise to respect and cherish what we’ve stumbled upon. We sit in silence- using our senses to take it all in.

It’s time to turn back, and we do so at a quickened pace. Every couple of feet pup shoves his head into a sword fern, into the plants growing up the sides of the trail. I wonder what he’s up to. He must smell, see, or hear something beyond my ability. It’s fun to observe him- to imagine how he experiences the world. Down the trail we go- leash in hand charging onward.

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