Mandy's Glade

With the family out of town this past weekend, I needed to keep busy in order not to feel alone.  My younger brother is at a trade show in Boston this week - so I continue to be alone.  In order to keep busy and my mind off the "not good" thoughts of just why I was alone, I went to the houseboat resolved to do a laundry list of activities.

I got a late start on Friday (messing with my Dad's computer was slow going!) but Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny and not too unpleasantly warm, so I headed over to Chestertown's "City Dock" and looked at the Schooner Sultana, the first I have seen her this year.  She's been busy, out of port, on "road trips" ("river trips?) to places like Saint Micheal's and Baltimore.  From there, I went to the local Farmers Market and looked but didn't buy.

I went to the supermarket. My shopping list was simple:

Kitty Litter - Check! Wet Cat Food - Check!  Laundry Detergent - Check! The sign on the reverse had a different list: Paper Towels - Check! Dog Food - Check! Dog Biscuits - Check!  Leaving the supermarket, I went to the Humane Society of Kent County with a trunk full of goodies where they were received with happy smiles.  Perhaps too, Ruby was smiling also.

From there, I took a quick swim and then headed to the Atkins Arboretum where I spent several hours walking through the meadows, lost in thought:

..and into the woods.

...amd before I knew it, I had walked nearly 7 miles and my lingering thought was that of the goat herd I had seen - and how cute the goat was that stood on top of the picnic table, overlooking her domain.

I returned to the houseboat and took a most refreshing swim, before settling down to read for the evening, a history book I got from the Chestertown Library about the "resettlement" of the Native Americans from Georgia to Oklahoma back in the 1830s.  A most terrible and sad moment in American History.

Sunday morning found me restless and anxious - so I hit the road and headed home.  Once there, I decided I needed to do some tree-hugging.  So I headed to Valley Forge National Historic Park and feeling like I was nearly my old-self as far as walking form, selected a combination old-new trek.  I combined the "Pawling's Farm" shown below with the "Deer hunt Walk," followed by the Schuylkill River Trail, and returning to my car on the "River Trail."

Pawling's Farm

I've not been "up" to walking on the Schuylkill River Trail of late, I think it was a combination of couple factors, my being sub-par with the health issues, and well... the walk takes me past a place with special memories.  Memories, I have been avoiding.

The Schuylkill River Trail is a walk/bike path created from the Pennsylvania Railroad's Schuylkill Branch.  It ran from Philadelphia to the coal counties beyond Pottstown, Reading, Hamburg, and Pottsville.  For a short distance, the abandoned right of way carries the walker (or biker) over the small streams and through the meadows of Valley Forge.

There is a place, where the trail goes over a small stream on an old stone arch culvert/bridge that has some powerful and lingering memories for me.

View from the trail

A while ago, I lost a dear and special friend.  Her name was Mandy, and she lived in far away Australia.  We "met" on-line and talked about everything under the sun.  Her beliefs were odd to me (she was Wiccan) and her speech and mannerisms were intriguing and different (should I say, "unique"?)  I found myself learning from her and enjoying her "company."  One of the things we talked about was, where we would go if we were to ever meet - and at this quiet little spot, I envisioned us having a picnic, while seeing the many deer wandering about.

...and so I have, perhaps unconsciously, avoided the place since she passed away at a far too young age - apparently mostly from giving up the battle against the many injuries life inflicted on her.

As a strong-minded, determined, independent, woman, she had her opinions and wasn't afraid to voice them.  Among those opinions, were her religious beliefs.

Wiccan teachings say nothing of "the afterlife."  Many of them believe that when someone dies, if they mourn at all, it is for their loss, for the loss of the person to the world, for themselves, their family, and for what the person could've done had they lived. Few Wiccans mourn the fact that a person has died.

So to honor that - I mourned what she might have done - had she lived on.  Mandy's ashes were scattered by her children at a very pretty seaside village called Port Fairy, located on Giffiths Island, Victoria, Australia.  There is a lighthouse there - near the waves and sea creatures that Mandy adored - and this is where her children celebrated her life.

I held my own celebration of her life ... here, in this quiet little glade.  As I pondered what she might have done had she lived, I came to appreciate the Wiccan ideas of "do no harm to others" and Mandy's thoughts on "pantheism" (the belief that everything composes an all-encompassing, immanent God, or that the universe (or nature) is identical with divinity. Pantheists do not believe in a personal or anthropomorphic god.)  Here I was - "held in the cusp of nature" - and alone with my thoughts - but not alone... I was connected to everyone and everything - through some deeper, unseen but powerful links.

So, having spent some quiet moments of reflection - with bitter and regretful thoughts turning to far more positive ones - I left the glade - and although I think Mandy was "not there,"  she was in some way, "connected to there."  As are each of us - interconnected - and a part of each other.

I headed back to my car along the river, past the turtles,

..and over the stream that created the glade,

 ... and past the tree that reminds me of two other dear friends (that I've neglected of late)

The walk went steadily.  I soon put seven miles on the trusty pedometer - and was happy enough to see my car waiting for me in the parking lot where I had left it.

As for the deer... I saw none of them - but I'm sure they were there... somewhere.

Someone's Watching You

UK Virtual Walk

Steps: 6,130,264
Miles: 2613.00
Miles to Go: 92.0

I have been struggling a bit lately. I've deleted my twitter account and deactivated my Facebook account. I know withdrawal is not the answer to what ails me, but I guess being the live alone hermit that I am - the "batten the hatches" and "secure the storm shutter" modus operandi of mine is a nearly unbreakable habit. I apologize to everyone for being antisocial - I honestly don't think you want to read anything I write when I'm "in a black" mood.

So, in short, the dandelions did nothing.


But... the tree hugging did something. I mean, look at this tree... I stood in front of it for a while as if waiting for Winnie the Pooh to amble out and offer me a smackerel of something and maybe a cup of tea.

I was prepared as I remembered a silly bear's advice. "When having a smackerel of something with a friend, don't eat so much that you get stuck in the doorway trying to get out." I think that's really good advice.

Toward the end of April, I walked down to a little ravine that runs beneath the Schuylkill River Trail and see the culvert that was down there. The trail crosses the ravine on a flat and level "fill" since it was a railroad track at one time. You can see the view from down there here.


Today, I walked over the ravine and felt eyes burning between my shoulders. I stopped and leaned over the edge of the trail and looked up and down the ravine... and spotted those eyes on me. Do you see her?


Perhaps you can see her now. She's standing in the water, where I watched her drink for a while.


I asked her, "Does the water taste better when you stand in it?" She looked at me quizzically, her ears twitching and her tail starting to flag in warning. I left her to drink and bathe her feet and walked on.

I think this evening I saw upwards to forty deer. Some of them nearby, but most of them in the distance, all warily watch me. At one point, I could smell them, it was very warm and humid out, and I could smell their sweat on their hides.

I walked around a bend in the trail quietly and startled a group of about twelve of them. All but one of them dashed up the hill to an open field, where they stopped at the edge...


...silhouetted in the setting sun. The one deer that didn't run, walked with me, snorting and twitching nervously, but not advancing or moving away... I've never seen that happen. I'm not sure if she was escorting me, or hoping I might have a deer treat. After walking shotgun for about a quarter mile, she finally tired of me and bounded off with her white tail flying.

I watched her go - but was rudely reminded I had to watch where I was walking.


Nothing like having to wash your shoes off before you can drive home. Sometimes I think one can get a little too close to nature. :)

Deer Hunt Walk

I wrote this entry as an email to someone - someone I think very highly of and often wish they could see the sights as well as experience the scents in the air around me when I take a particular pleasant walk. So I feebly try to describe the sights to them herein...

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A couple days ago, I left the office early as I wanted to cut the grass at home and needed some extra time to start the lawn mower for the first time this year. It's always a little cranky after sitting in the garage unused all winter.

It was really bright and sunny outside, and very warm actually, as it was just shy of 90 F. I figured riding on the mower would get a breeze going on my face. I got the lawn mower started quickly and the lawn mowed in next to no time - the grass wasn't very tall, it was just really high in spots where the onion-like grass sticks up like sore thumbs.


As it was still early afternoon, I drove over to Valley Forge National Historic Park and decided since I was in no rush to actually get anywhere, I would take a slow loop walk. My legs were pretty tired before I started - I've been ramping back up on my walking this month, and am averaging 5 miles a day now.

As it was so sunny and warm, I took the Deer Hunt trail, as I call it, since it goes into the shady woods. I expected to see some deer, but mostly I was just curious to see what damage the hard winter had done to the trees and also to see if the bluebell flowers have bloomed in profusion yet.


The fields were just covered with little yellow buttercups, an endless sea of them. I didn't notice a lot of bugs, creeping or flying, but there were some - the first I've seen this year. The Gnats will soon be out in force and they make dense clouds on the trail - so I think to myself, enjoy the lack of the pest while it lasts!


The winter was brutally hard on the trees, bushes and tall grasses, everywhere there are fallen, broken branches, flattened grass, and bushes split into parts by the weight of the heavy snow we had, compounded by the heavy rains into the drifts of snow causing heavy masses of soggy ice and snow to crush everything beneath it. We had a couple very windy (60 mile per hour plus) days that furthered the destruction.


But nature goes that way, a cycle of growth, retreats, and regrowth. It is now a time for regrowth. The trees, which had mostly budded last week, have exploded seemingly overnight with light green leaves... the grass is starting to straighten up and shoot upwards, and the bushes and flowering trees are positively brilliant - the bright yellow forsythia, the lime green weeping willows, and the bluebells are all at peak vivid splendor poking up through the shattered branches littering the ground.

It is still too early for many of the birds, the Robins are here, and the Canadian Geese are starting their migration, and some of the smaller hawks are patrolling the skies, along with the always present buzzards who I secretly think believe that, since I walk so slowly, I'm nearly ready for their dinner.

I saw no deer and no squirrels... I think they were taking naps in the dark shady spaces since this is the first very hot day and no one, man or beast, is used to the heat yet.


As I walk along I get more limber as the heat coupled with the exertion of walking up and down the hilly trail make me begin to sweat. I soon soak my shirt and feel the pleasant state of fatigue... and follow the trail along the river where the evening breeze starts to pick up and the quacking of the Mallard Ducks impinges on my (now mostly idle) thoughts.

Almost too soon, although it is a couple hours and six miles later, I am back to my car where I head home for a shower and a light dinner.