Tiny Legos
“I come from Des Moines. Someone had to.” -Bill Bryson
When I think of Thich Nhat Hanh saying “Peace is every step”, I wonder, did he ever have kids that liked Legos? There are days at home where “Piece is Every Step” and my feet are in grave danger. I manage this all in stride. At risk of tooting my own horn, I’ve managed to do other hard things in my life too. I’m not exceptional, but I ate a dragonfly once. Crossing the boulder littered crevasse fields of Mount Rainier also comes to mind. I’ve ice-axed my way up frozen waterfalls. I’ve been laid flat by big waves both figuratively and metaphorically. This has been my version of what Italian Climber Walter Bonatti called “The pursuit with the extremely hard”. I’m not sure who translated that but today my pursuit is understanding a two year old as she smells a “A toot in her boot”. We’re not on Kathadin’s knife edge or riding the LAMB route in Vermont although that would be easier in a way.
We’re in the new Blue Karner and Frosted Elfin Butterfly habitat on Taylor Road. Yes, you read that correctly. A butterfly habitat in December is as quiet as you’d expect. As the kids romp through the falling flurries and failing light, I can’t think of a better place to be. There’s not enough snow to slide down the hills on their bellies but that doesn’t stop them from trying. The clouds above slide in front of the evening moon. In the big expanse of darkening white, the wall of a hill on the western end looms over the swath of open space. We’re alone and to our two year old, it must feel big but she doesn’t say as much. She wants a snack. The hill is no half-dome, but it’s impressive to me and the kids are smiling. I appreciate the nuance of these non-extreme places more than I thought I would. These things are more cool than they look on the map. Instead of big personal excursions, it's more about living a steady process these days. More about practice. More small adventures with the kids. These days are greater than the sum of their parts. Dave Matthews says “Don’t Drink the Water”, so we carry it and chop wood.
As I look around, it’s impossible to not be inspired by all the nature conservation projects in our area. Its an embarrassment of public open spaces really. Places where the guardrails are off. There’s no sign-in or sign-off. A true pick-up game doesn’t have a referee. As a family, when we're in these spaces, there's a connection to something bigger than a device or screen. An honesty. And when we go out, inevitably at the outset, someone’s grumpy or aggrieved. Maybe we’re all in a bad mood until we get far enough in the woods to switch on and wake up. Then, like a flame flickering in a paper lantern, the mood has nowhere to go but up.
The next day on the way to work, we take Exit 16 onto the Northway. Zaz asks for the last mint in the tin as the sun comes up from the East. The Palmertown Range is glowing orange through the trees. This is where the future spine of a 14 mile trail connecting Saratoga Springs to Moreau State Park will hopefully live. Someday I hope we’ll go on a big bike adventure there but I’m in no rush. At this moment, I’m happy to plan amongst the frozen butterflies. I don’t care how far we go, as long as we get to go.
The following night, I ask Will, “Is it raining?” He says, “No, it’s sprinkling hard.”
Good. Maybe we can get out and back before dinner.
木漏れ日,
Andy
