Martha Kennedy posted: " This morning Bear let it be known in no uncertain terms that she and Teddy wanted OUT NOW. So, well, you know the drill by now, but it involved leashing them, changing shoes, etc. etc. It was a beautiful morning in the back of beyond with a few random cr" "Summer is the season of inferior sledding" - Inuit proverb (Women's Wilderness Legend)
This morning Bear let it be known in no uncertain terms that she and Teddy wanted OUT NOW. So, well, you know the drill by now, but it involved leashing them, changing shoes, etc. etc. It was a beautiful morning in the back of beyond with a few random crane tourists making their way around the loop, seeing nothing because the cranes were all in the air.
I got to see several and hear their purring above me. I watched a couple of Harris Hawks hunting. Checked for new elk tracks (none) but my mind wasn't there. It was in all the garbage of our world and the moment and preoccupied with the two articles I'm writing and which I'm not sure about at all. I haven't been a journalist before. Plus, when I started this, I was still struggling with the remnants of Covid brain. I don't even remember what my deadlines are. Seriously. So, I wasn't "there" with my place or the wonders of it, or the gifts it had for me.
When we reached the turn around point I suddenly got a message from the landscape. It very loudly said, "Leave that shit behind when you come out here." I felt like I'd been slapped. Yeah, how irreverent, how arrogant is that to think that the quotidian preoccupations of the moment in which I'm living have any place in a landscape where mammoths walked? "I've given you all this stuff you love this morning, Martha and what are you doing with it? You only have THIS MOMENT."
I felt ashamed. I straightened up. I knew I was forgiven -- and warned.
As we were driving out, two lovely things happened. One silly thing -- Teddy got a new favorite song -- and one amazing thing. I saw a muskrat nest for the first time.
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