Reaching for the leafless branches and twigs sticking out of the frozen earth, I carefully inched my way down the incline to the frozen brook. For the Northeast, our winter had been rather unusual with nary a flake or flurry of snow. Until a day or two ago, that is when not only did we have snow but also freezing rain. The perfect condition I’d been waiting for.
Wrapped up in my Cape Cod sweatshirt and wearing Arnold Schwarzenegger like hiking/snow boots, my hat pulled down in front like my daughter, Lesa, who lives in Montana, showed me, I had that I am strong hint of confidence coursing through my body that being in the urban wild can bring.
Getting away from my desk and inhaling the brisk, clean air reminded me how much I loved the thrill of challenge. I remember many years ago my Uncle Albert climbed to the summit of Half Dome in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Yosemite National Park. That was awe inspiring to me, and I so wished for that level of mastery. But, dealing with chronic disease …well, that may be too lofty a goal. Hiking gentle grounds and soft slopes around Pascack Brook to photograph natural ice sculptures and try to capture the magic of the barren woods would have to suffice. At least, for the time being, that is.
Advancing farther into the woods brought great fulfillment for this want to be photo journalist. I found myself ducking under a barrage of branches; sprawling spread eagle on the frozen brook to snap what I hoped would bean Ansel Adams shot. This free spiritedness brought about release and soon, my child within escaped. I found myself maneuvering sexagenarian acrobatics for scooting across boulders and rocks and sliding across a floe to photograph miniature glacier like formations.
And then, it happened. An object in the distance caught my eye. Climbing over a pile of dead wood, tree trunks and other debris from the swift waters of days gone by, I came upon a football. Possibly, it had belonged to a youngster and had gotten thrown just a little too far never to be united with its owner again. It was now my trophy of the day. Just why my find was so exciting was a mystery. It had no particular value. Not like a lost Rolex watch or a hundred dollar bill nestled against the frozen leaves. Nevertheless, I found myself erupting with glee and smiling over my new treasure.
Sitting on a rock at mid-afternoon in the quiet and absorbing winter forest speak is something that continues to still my soul and lift my heart.
