Beyond Walking

So Long, Sultry Summer

*Fall-like weather you can’t feel from a photo, a bird I can’t name, and a snake in front of it (not visible here).*

We are not really saying good-bye to summer, of course. In recent years, I have seen temperatures in the 70s well into December. Still, the light has been shifting for weeks now, and this past weekend we got our first breath of fresh air with a Saturday that was cool(er) and breezy. I think nearly any place could feel like heaven in those conditions.

As it was, we spent part of the morning walking around a nearby lake, which was good enough. Blue skies, water rippled by light wind, enough people out to convey a sense of connection, not so many that we wanted to be somewhere else instead. For some reason, though, this particular lake makes us think and talk about being in other places: Maine, North Carolina, Montana, Europe. What if…? What if…?

Green Spaces for Gray Days

*The Orchid Room at the Rawlings Conservatory, in Baltimore*, *offers a colorful break from winter weather.*

By the time February rolls around, I’m craving warmth and greenery. Right now we’re lacking both the brightness of sun upon snow (no snow, intermittent sun) and the bright colors of trees and plants. It’s an easy time to feel a little “blah.” And so, a couple of years ago, I realized one way to find respite without going far from home is to seek out local conservatories. Awash in humidity, full of life, growth, water features, color, texture, they are mid-winter’s eye candy. Now that we have two young children in tow, conservatories offer a bonus in that they provide a space that is both inviting for adults and welcoming for children, who can explore freely and also speak at their regular volume.

This past weekend we spent part of a morning at the Rawlings Conservatory in Baltimore, our second visit. The first, one year ago, was on a sunny day, which made the experience feel a bit warmer despite the colder temperatures. Although the past week has been on the milder side for early February, it has also been just cloudy and gray enough to warrant an enjoyable hour in a green space.

Wild Geese, Autumn’s Emblem

In the village store, someone says, “I heard the geese go over,” and there is a moment of silence. Why this is so moving, I do not know. But all of us feel it.
Gladys Taber

Several weeks ago, as I turned to walk inside, I caught sight of a low flock of geese, honking, their wings golden, lit underneath with the glow of the setting sun as they flew southwest. It was arguably the most spectacular geese sighting I’ve ever had, a pristine moment in the midst of an ordinary week’s chaos.

My relationship with geese is hot and cold, a love/hate dynamic that extends as far back as I can remember geese. Majestic overhead, cranky on the ground; yellow fuzzballs that turn into hulking bodies whose unwieldy appearance is deceptive once you see them in flight. I recall watching “Fly Away Home” as the post-wisdom-tooth-removal pain medication wore off shortly before Thanksgiving my senior year of high school. I have distinct memories of playing hopscotch along any path of my New England college campus as I tried to dodge their goose-y droppings. When I take my daughter to “feed the ducks,” often we are actually tossing park-provided pellets to a gaggle of geese, a few ducks mixed in if we’re lucky.

Hikes Just around the Corner

And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye
clear. What we need is here.
– from Wendell Berry’s “The Wild Geese”

It’s funny how sometimes you can go for years living in a place before you learn certain things about it. I lived for a year in a town in Maryland, wishing for a good breakfast place. Might I add that once you move out of the metro New York area, trying to find a bagel or pizza place that satisfies cravings for either of those can feel impossible. Imagine my surprise, then, to learn after moving to another town that the first had the best bagels around.

Short, popular hikes: Worth it?

Delicate Arch in Arches National Park, June 2018.

Anyone visiting a new park or hiking area will no doubt stumble upon reviews of that locale’s most popular short hikes early in their research. These hikes typically promise big views in exchange for minimal to moderate effort, but they are likely to guarantee big crowds.

My tendency is to want to avoid these areas in my planning, and I spend a good amount of time looking for other hikes that are a bit more off the beaten path. While I don’t think my strategy is a bad one in general, especially if one of the goals of a hike is to get away from crowds, I have to admit I’ve been proven wrong often enough to rethink this as a primary strategy.

Two out-and-back hikes that I initially planned to avoid but ended up taking, after recommendations from others? Delicate Arch, in Arches National Park, and Hidden Lake Overlook, in Glacier National Park.