Back on track

With all of the recent cougar sightings, I am reluctant to drop myself into the leaves of the deep forest.

A kind of lethargy has also come over me regarding that other leaf–the one that contributes to the page.

I am just getting over the high of being immersed in the company of international MA students at Lancaster summer school in England. And what an experience that was. A group of writers from England, Greece, Ireland, Kenya, Uganda, and Nigeria came together and studied, laughed, read, wrote, talked politics, gender, and economics, and, over the occasional British bitter and Bushmills, discussed the future of writing and reading.

These are a talented bunch, writing everything from Victorian dramas to poetry that tears at your soul. We were held together by internationally-acclaimed tutors whose writing awards do not outshine their compassion and dedication to moving younger apprentices to new heights. I hope to contain a tenth of their talent and humanity.

I wanted to sit in the sun after those intense days, ponder, and read. Now that the autumn sun is falling back, I am thinking about the challenges I face with my own work. There is only a year to finish this long narrative/thesis and I must get my head down and as the saying goes, my bum into the chair.

Thank-you to all of my fellow students and tutors. You have touched and inspired–my heart is full.

Mt. Doug Hiking

If you compare this picture to the one below taken in May, you will see how different the mountain is in the middle of the summer. There is a sluggishness in the air as all life conserves energy and water. Now, the mountain smells like hay and crushed strawberries, and the dry dirt and stony paths need to be negotiated with the same caution as in the winter.

I could not choose a favorite time of year up here, but there is something in the heat and stillness of summer, which is different from the stillness of expectant spring or hibernating winter, that is unhurried; it encourages an emptying, a waiting–meditation. I heard no birds or bees this day. Few had ventured out to hike in the heat of the midday, at least not on the south side.

The mountain is very different from the irrigated industrial Blenkinsop gardens below, which are busy keeping up with the lettuce, potatoes, beans, and berries.

A few housekeeping items: there is a light at the north end of Shelbourne to allow safer crossing, and there are some new forest markers as well. Someone has also hung a swing from a tall tree. Go find it.

This website will change its focus soon. While I will continue to hike the mountain, this blog will be one category, and logged less frequently. I am starting to work on my postgraduate degree and I think I would like to document my progress. For those of you who subscribe, I hope you will continue to do so.

The summer is short: see it, feel it.