Quiet contemplation

And folks, check out the thoughts on Quiet Paths. There's an entry there, A Chapel in Time, that's well worth reading. It's about taking time for contemplation, and allowing beauty to seep into us, forging a connection. So often, we go into nature as "outsiders" - nature is the birds and the trees and so forth, but not us.

One of the gifts my dad gave me as a girl was to take me on nature hikes - we'd walk across logs over streams, sit on rocks and watch the forest go about its business, trace out the fossils in the limestone that made the bones of the hills, nibble on sassafrass leaves, and sometimes bring back trillium for Mom. Dad would sometimes pick up a daddy longlegs so we could admire the beautiful elegance, but always made sure to put him back, well off the path, so he wouldn't be smooshed or eaten by a bird.

And of course, putting up food with my mom certainly taught me a lot about my connection to the land, as did tending our garden. There's nothing that connects me to the Earth so much as eating wild blackberry jam. The domesticated variety that you get in the supermarket bears next to no resemblence to the real thing, and the berries taste sweeter for the scratches on your arms. And just a bite of it, smeared on toast in the winter, brings back a warm day, with the quiet rustle of the blackberry canes, the birds watching suspiciously as we poach some of the berries. Knowing that we, along with the blackberries, and the birds, and even the little grass snake hiding in the canes are part of the same whole.