Showing posts with label field. Show all posts
Showing posts with label field. Show all posts
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Snow Hike
We still have a significant amount of snow, but it's perfectly packed right now, making walking possible. Today we ventured out into the fields and forest.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Find Your Way
Sometimes you are forced to do things in a way that you don't prefer, and sometimes, as a result, you discover something great.
It took me until at least my late twenties to learn that my way is not the only way. Not only is it not the only way, it's often not the best way. This was a humbling lesson for me. It didn't happen overnight, nor can I trace it back to one specific event. But the fact of it is carved into my psyche, and I'm glad for it.
Yesterday afternoon Henry and I took a walk through the flooded fields. We went up the hill at the north end. From the top of the hill, I heard the falls. Knowing they would be swollen with all the recent rain, I just had to go. I also knew that I couldn't hike down to them safely with a twenty-two pound kid strapped to my back.
So, we had to find a new way. Instead of heading straight for the falls, we kept heading west through the upper field. Eventually, we came to a small trickle of water that lead us straight to the flooded creek. From there we could go east and see the falls from above.
Running perpendicular to the falls we came to see, I spied some NEW falls. Perhaps they are only made visible by the higher water, or maybe it was the new way we came that forced them into my view.
I couldn't get to them though, the river being too wide right now to safely cross with a baby on board. I will go back for them soon, though. Count on it.
Just another lesson learned, another reminder served.
Take your time. Try another way. You never know what you will find.
It took me until at least my late twenties to learn that my way is not the only way. Not only is it not the only way, it's often not the best way. This was a humbling lesson for me. It didn't happen overnight, nor can I trace it back to one specific event. But the fact of it is carved into my psyche, and I'm glad for it.
Yesterday afternoon Henry and I took a walk through the flooded fields. We went up the hill at the north end. From the top of the hill, I heard the falls. Knowing they would be swollen with all the recent rain, I just had to go. I also knew that I couldn't hike down to them safely with a twenty-two pound kid strapped to my back.
Running perpendicular to the falls we came to see, I spied some NEW falls. Perhaps they are only made visible by the higher water, or maybe it was the new way we came that forced them into my view.
I couldn't get to them though, the river being too wide right now to safely cross with a baby on board. I will go back for them soon, though. Count on it.
Just another lesson learned, another reminder served.
Take your time. Try another way. You never know what you will find.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Follow Your Gut
The other night I slipped away for half an hour to go for a walk. I soon found myself in the field across the road with the intent to "go around the mountain". I needed this hike, as I have a teething 13 month old at home and was about to lose my damn mind if I didn't get out of the house without the little monkey clinging to me.
Instinct took me in a different direction, though, and I managed to stumble across the beaver pond my husband's father recently told him about.
During the hike, I made my way through two older, long abandoned beaver ponds.
The first is visible from the road, and just has one tiny stream intersecting it. The stream ran earlier in the month, but it's mostly dried up now - just soggy earth left.
The second old beaver pond is through the woods a little ways. Walking through the forest I came upon a knee high ridge. This ridge would have been the old dam. The field was intersected with many different streams, all seeming to go in different directions and ending in dead ends. Like a maze.
At the southwest corner of the field I spied where the water was entering the field, flowing over some rocks. I hiked in that direction and was rewarded with a cool, dark babbling brook. I continued walking upstream. The brook is narrow and shallow, with a few deeper pools here and there, filled with rocks. It's bordered on both sides by a narrow flood plain, and then steep banks.
As I walked on I thought perhaps this would lead me to the beaver pond my husband told me was back here.
I was right.
A short way further up the valley, I came upon the beaver pond. It was about 6:45 in the evening and the shadows were deep and dark, the sun being so low as to just barely hit the bottom of the valley.
The photos that I have of this place do not do it justice. It's bordered all around by high, steep banks. Vibrant moss grows on rocks and trees. I felt as if I had stepped into a fairy tale. In the middle of the pond, an enormous tree has fallen. The pictures do not accurately show how huge this tree really is - there's nothing I could have put beside it to show scale.
So entranced was I with my find that I didn't even stop to see if there were signs of recent beaver activity. I think that the pond has been abandoned though. Because of the fact that water flows freely from it, and the fact that no animals signs stood out to me, I guess that the beavers that called this pond home have moved on.
I really want to go back - and soon. I want to follow the stream farther up and discover it's source. I want to visit the pond when the light is better and take some great photos. I want someone to accompany me to stand beside the big tree!
This hike was proof again that my gut tells me everything I need to know - and when I listen, I am richly rewarded.
Instinct took me in a different direction, though, and I managed to stumble across the beaver pond my husband's father recently told him about.
During the hike, I made my way through two older, long abandoned beaver ponds.
The first is visible from the road, and just has one tiny stream intersecting it. The stream ran earlier in the month, but it's mostly dried up now - just soggy earth left.
The second old beaver pond is through the woods a little ways. Walking through the forest I came upon a knee high ridge. This ridge would have been the old dam. The field was intersected with many different streams, all seeming to go in different directions and ending in dead ends. Like a maze.
At the southwest corner of the field I spied where the water was entering the field, flowing over some rocks. I hiked in that direction and was rewarded with a cool, dark babbling brook. I continued walking upstream. The brook is narrow and shallow, with a few deeper pools here and there, filled with rocks. It's bordered on both sides by a narrow flood plain, and then steep banks.
As I walked on I thought perhaps this would lead me to the beaver pond my husband told me was back here.
I was right.
A short way further up the valley, I came upon the beaver pond. It was about 6:45 in the evening and the shadows were deep and dark, the sun being so low as to just barely hit the bottom of the valley.
The photos that I have of this place do not do it justice. It's bordered all around by high, steep banks. Vibrant moss grows on rocks and trees. I felt as if I had stepped into a fairy tale. In the middle of the pond, an enormous tree has fallen. The pictures do not accurately show how huge this tree really is - there's nothing I could have put beside it to show scale.
So entranced was I with my find that I didn't even stop to see if there were signs of recent beaver activity. I think that the pond has been abandoned though. Because of the fact that water flows freely from it, and the fact that no animals signs stood out to me, I guess that the beavers that called this pond home have moved on.
I really want to go back - and soon. I want to follow the stream farther up and discover it's source. I want to visit the pond when the light is better and take some great photos. I want someone to accompany me to stand beside the big tree!
This hike was proof again that my gut tells me everything I need to know - and when I listen, I am richly rewarded.
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