Kayaking, Muck, Beasts, Slopes, and Mushrooms

Copyright 2024 by Lori-Ann Willey

Back from an adventurous outing, and wow, what a trek!  Due to moose and bear hunting season, I donned a hunter-orange sweatshirt, went for a short kayak ride, to another area for a walk through the woods.  The hydro company is doing their annual drawdown of the lake, and you can really see how much the water level has dropped in our photos with the water stump. But despite all that, I had a different mission in mind—hunting for edible fungi! It took me about 30 minutes to find a spot close enough to the shoreline to step out of my kayak without sinking too much into the mud. Mud and I? We’re not friends. I'd rather eat a pile of moose poops!  Well, maybe not, but close!  After paddling as close as I could and inching my way toward firmer ground, I finally found a place where I could safely step out. Though it meant a longer walk through the thickest of thickets, it was still way better than stepping into the deep yucky mucky stuff!  If at any time you hear me make squeamish noises, it's because I've stepped in mud!

After all that effort, I got lucky and found two matsutakes within a half an hour after dragging and tying my kayak upon land! Woo Hoo!  Given how dry it’s been, I felt like I’d won the lottery! From there, it was a bit more of a struggle—crawling on all fours up steep slopes, sliding back down, and navigating around rocks and fallen trees. It was tough going, but I kept my eyes open for anything edible. After literally searching high and low, I didn’t find much else.

At one point between steep slopes, I stopped to rest on a moss-covered log, taking in the beauty of the large moss-carpeted landscape before me—there’s just something so peaceful about it. I could hear logging in the not-so-distant, reminding me that this area will probably look completely different next spring. With a scowl, I thought, because I know this area so well, the way it is now will be a loss to me, so I soaked in that mossy area long and deep.  Thoughts of snapping a photo came to mind, but I wanted to remember other details for other reasons, like maybe a later painting option, or maybe for a future descriptive writing piece in a book -the setting for a scene, or an event.  

A few minutes later, and just as I started walking again, apparently, I startled a large animal by my movement—a bear or moose maybe? The movement itself sounded somewhat aggressive so I called out, “Hey Bear!” as I crouched to look under the thick tree limbs hoping to catch a view of legs at least, but I only spotted moving fir branches -no beast of any kind. My guess is it was a moose, possibly a yearling, skirting around the loggers that caught a whiff of my scent and/or unexpected movement. I'll never know for sure.  Thought it was strange that I never heard it leaving the area though. A moose doesn't care much about the noise it makes, whereas a bear does.  Whatever it was had heft.  As I crossed over another log, the mossy rock below showed a heart-shaped moose print that had cut away the moss itself and was as clean as a sharp cookie-cutter pressed into soft dough, so more than likely, the beast was a moose and not a bear.  I suppose, a bear would make for a better story, but.

A short distance later, I found myself at the base of another steep incline.  As per usual, I decided to climb to where I’d found matsutakes before...a lot of them.  The problem with that idea is that my bum knee was already aching, and was becoming increasingly stiff from swelling.  If I hadn’t been so determined, I’d say, “Not today.”  The other “problem” was that the matsutake are always just below the top rim!  In the past, if dealing with an injury, I’d walk the top edge from another direction with a much gentler slope vs repeated two steps up to a slide backward process which means a wicked slow uphill climb.  I approach life the same -I face yuckies head-on vs skirt around them.  Some people don't like that quality in me, but I've had to learn the hard way.

The lack of rain and the noise from logging made it tough to enjoy the peacefulness of the woods. The fallen leaves were crunching underfoot and dry, crunchy white lichen was more in line with November vs end of September.  I pushed on, though, grabbing onto saplings and rocks for balance as I climbed. At the top, not a single mushroom in sight. Feeling a bit discouraged, tired, fighting allergies, and running on just 3 hours of sleep, I knew it was time to head back. The way down that slope was just as challenging, sliding, back-stepping, leaning, and falling onto upright trees for support or break a fall.  At times, I walked the along the slope until I thought my sneaker would rip from the sole.  It never did, but the slope so steep that my foot slipped out of my downhill sneaker several times.  This, despite the lace being tied snuggly.  Gravity is gravity, grip is grip, and socks can be slippery within those sneakers after stepping into the mud.  Yuck!

Upon flattish ground once again, I dreaded that walk through the mud yet again.  Oh, the noise I'd make would've been comical if one was in earshot.  When I finally reached the edge of the woods, oh how I dreaded the walk through the sticky mud. It wasn't long before a set of fresh animal tracks in the mud distracted me.  As I got closer, I noticed those tracks had walked in my footprints from a couple hours earlier, and they lead right to my kayak.  Something had come by and checked "me" out! Based on the prints, which had no visible claw marks and were about 1 1/3 inches wide, people I've showed the photos to guessed it could have been an otter, fisher, lynx, or even a bobcat.  My first instinct was otter, but it doesn't matter what they are, they are fun.

Navigating back through the shallow, rock-filled cove in my kayak proved just as slow and frustrating as my arrival.  The sun reflected off the water from this angle, too, which  made it hard to see anything except for the bright sky above. I hit rock after rock below the surface, sometimes (too often) becoming stuck upon them, and had to wiggle and pry the kayak free. It reminded me of being a kid trying to use a snow sled upon a grassy lawn.  It just wouldn't move on its own.  Often, I’d paddle backward onto another rock or between two -stuck in another way, but eventually, I made it into deeper water where I must say, I chuckled as much at the experience as I felt in relief when I reached those deeper waters.  It wasn’t long before I repeated the same process as I approached our shoreline. Finally, I was able to swish my feet in the water and rinse off all that mud.  Bleck!

In the end, it was quite the mid-day excursion! A workout, a bit of wildlife mystery, and I came home with two beautiful matsutakes.  I'd do it all over again.

Following A Moosie, Found A Tick

 Copyright 2024 by Lori-Ann Willey

While Paul rested, I took the truck and headed towards a nearby stream. I've explored that stream countless times before, but this morning, I had the want to venture deeper into the woods. With my knee still recovering from injury, I chose to start by following an old tote road to avoid any strain. Eventually, I veered off towards a wetter area. Along the way, I noticed deer tracks, droppings, and a spot where a moose had recently passed. Intrigued, I decided to follow the moose, listening for the telltale crunch of its steps, hoping to catch a glimpse before it reached the meadow-like area.

As I pushed deeper into the woods, the terrain became increasingly challenging. My feet sank into soft ground, and I navigated through thick alders. Occasionally, I heard low grunts, as if the moose invited me to respond, but I remained silent. Continuing onward, I found myself balancing unsteadily on tree roots and fragile alder branches, determined to follow the trail. Eventually, I reached a point where further progress became impossible. The moose, far more capable than I in navigating such terrain, continued gracefully, its presence occasionally audible through the trees and my own internal groans with near-fall after near-fall.  If only I had its long legs and balance!

Disappointed, I turned back, retracing my steps with careful balance. Back at the truck, I felt a sensation on my forearm. Assuming it was a fly or spider, I brushed at it absentmindedly until I realized it was a tick crawling up my arm. This was only the second time I've encountered a tick in this area, both instances occurring away from camp while navigating dense thickets.    I could do without the ticks but have to wonder if the tick missed a ride on a moosie, or hopped off and I was just the next victim.

Often, while wandering through the woods, I find myself irresistibly drawn to game trails. Every part of me longs to follow these paths, always hoping to catch a glimpse of a creature pausing to figure out what kind of animal I am. If I'm not bound by a pressing agenda, like searching for wild edibles, I often stand there, seriously debating whether I should abandon my current task to explore the trail. It’s a constant inner struggle not to redirect my focus and say to myself, “I’ll loop back around after I see where this goes.” But through these moments of diversion, I’ve learned so much—like recognizing the subtle animal track by an upturned leaf or distinguishing how animal prints vary across different landscapes, elevation changes, etc. It’s instinctive, it’s the lure and love of the woods -a passion! 

LIME WENT EVERYWHERE

Copyright 2024 by Lori-Ann Willey

LIME WENT EVERYWHERE, but mostly on the truck. Yesterday, I dropped Paul off at IVIG to save myself lots of extra steps due to the knee injury, I left him at the door to fend for himself for a few minutes while I crossed the road to pick up some lime for my garden. Our soil is quite acidic here, so I make as much compost as I can and add/make lime as a "just in case". Lime also helps deter certain pests like slugs, too, so I do use it straight as well.

I had placed the order the day before. I also placed an order for ten bags of Black Kow Manure. Normally, as most of you know, I "harvest" moose poops by the 5-gallon pail, but with Paul's shingles, I've not been able to do that this summer (thus far), so with plans on planting in my long Hugel along the driveway next spring, I opted to buy poops of the cow kind vs collecting the moosie poop kind.

I parked in the pick-up area as usual, ever-so-slowly stepped from the truck, used the bed of the truck to help me walk to the tailgate, and very carefully, climbed onto the bed. Thankfully, our truck is the style that has a drop-down section for a shorter step-up. Up I went, moved coolers around, and made room for the bag of lime and ten bags of poops. While waiting, I sat upon a cooler and enjoyed the warmth of the day. It wasn't long before I was approached asking if I could pull the truck around to the side of the building because my stuff was on a pallet and waiting for me there. If she could've heard the dreaded deep-gut groan, I think she would've recognized it as a painful one. But I put on a smile and told her I could. It took me a bit to figure out how to climb down, but I did while using the strength of my arms to bear the weight load on my knee. Thank God I'm a strong woman….think I even said, "Thank you" aloud.

Again, using the truck as a walking aid, once at the door, I used the pull-up grab bars for the same reason. I thought I'd pull it off the truck, but thankfully, they are solid-solid (American-made?) Phew! As I pulled up, the clerk was waiting for me, so I couldn't dilly-dally as I should've. Repeated the process I did. I couldn't have the stuff just plopped onto the truck all willy-nilly-like, 'cause I still had Sam's and Walmart curbside to pick up, which meant climbing onto the bed at least two more times. Upon the truck I went so I could take the bags and put each next to the cab for cooler room near the tailgate. There will be no rain in the future so the bags could stay on the truck, the coolers with food could not.

The first bag I was handed was lime, and I knew there was trouble the second I saw how it was being carried, and how soaking wet it was. I wasn't pleased, but if it held together, I could transfer it into a pail once at camp, so I said nothing when I probably should've....and they should've known better than giving me a lesser product! The second the transfer from hand-to-hand, I knew it wasn't going to work, 'cause the bag was already tearing...10 fingers went through the bag and the contents started spilling. Quickly, I set it down and told the clerk that I needed another bag and one that wasn't wet, 'cause "this isn't going to work". There was no problem, and the employee admitted, 'I wondered how that was going to work'. I wanted sooooo badly, to say, "REALLLY? And you gave it to me anyway?" I wasn't impressed, but knew that employees have bosses to answer to, and if told to hand it off anyway, what is that employee to do? At least this way, it was customer rejection. In another hand-off, the bag opened and heaped most of it onto the bed of the truck. Apologies galore from both of us, especially trying to clean it up with only hands and feet, down over the tailgate, down over the step-up helper with USB ports and rubber-coated electronics, before the rest fell onto the ground.

Once everything was loaded and I was given a dry bag of lime, it took me several minutes trying to get the stuff out of the gaps so I could fold the tailgate into a closed position again. The lime was mounded deeply. It was a chore, but I stood there, leaning on the tailgate to take the weight off my knee, and got it done with my fingers the best I could. I don't fault the clerk. I was an employee once and know that when a boss tells you to do something, you do it. I could've asked them to put the bags further on the truck for me. I could've stayed in the truck, too. I also could've asked them to brush all the lime from the truck and tailgate hinges, and I could've demanded a truck wash, as well as told her I was injured and couldn't do any of those things, and they would've done it without hesitation. I know they would've 'cause "customer comes first". However, I'm not one to be helped or care much about a dirty truck, and I’m certainly not one to bellyache over challenging work, injured or not. She had no idea I was hurting and screaming inside and that's important to me, too.

I grew up working through injuries, 'cause as my father would say, "It'll make you tough". That it did. I do what I can without further risking injury, but I'm a believer in, "you gotta keep moving" 'cause that helps the body heal, too. I did a loop in the small parking lot to turn around and as she swept up the lime from the pavement, we both grinned and wished each other a good day.

Making life better for all, one day at a time, because being rude and obnoxious is not my way. Other people matter, too. A job is a job, and in this world where so many people refuse to work and want hand-outs only, I applaud her for holding a job, even if she was covered in lime. Smiles are important, and injuries heal. It did me good to work my knee a little, too. A win-win. But, now, I'm going out with a little whisk broom and finish removing the lime that didn't bounce free of the truck on these dusty roads. ha ha ha ha Remember, you are important, but others are, too. See what happens when I rest my body….I write and bore you with long-ass stories.

NATURE IS A TEACHER, BUT DO WE LISTEN?

Copyright 2024 by Lori-Ann Willey

The inspiration for this writing piece comes from a conversation I had with a woman in a waiting room last week.  Among our many discussions, we talked about how nature can predict the weather, but so few people know how to do that these days, including some of those in that profession.  

This morning, with sprinkles dropping all around, I figured I had enough time to step off the deck and look over my gourde plants.  The second my bare feet hit the ground, the invitation to walk toward the woods was far too inviting, and like Hansel and Gretel following the bread trail, I fall for Mother Nature’s luring woodsy tricks every time, too.  Everything about a wooded area is always a temptation for me -always has been, so, instead of looking over my garden plants, I walked into the woods instead.  Despite the weather, there were no mosquitoes after my blood, and the sprinkles hadn’t filtered through the trees yet either.  It was a perfect time for a walk-about.

As I put one barefoot in front of the other, my attention drew to a large boulder with navel lichen.  I’ll go back another day and harvest what is on the ground only.  Glancing around, I looked for wild fungi or berries to harvest, but found neither.  It wasn’t long before my mind turned to future erosion control methods.  I hadn’t cleaned up winter debris in this area yet, and today wasn’t the day to start.  Each walk through the woods is different and there is always something new to see.    The woods, like everything in the natural world, are ever-changing.  It’s not only the lightness or darkness of the day.  It’s not only the shadows that change from minute to minute, and it’s not only the leaves and plants that seem to shift in the wind either.  It’s all that and so much more.  It’s comfort, a sense of belonging, and a great appreciation and respect that hits all my senses, memories, and emotions, too. Even now, I still hear my parents’ voices as they taught me what they knew.  I can “see” and “hear” them -always with me, still reminding me of lessons learnt so long ago.  I was so little then, yet I was taught in a way that I would remember.

I grew up learning, studying, and observing nature -my parents were amazing teachers.  How to read the sky, the leaves, flowers, and the plants to know when rain is coming, etc.  The animals tell their own stories, too, and while hunting, I depend on the sounds of nature, the activity of the small critters and birds.  They all tell a story or situation, and that is especially so when there is something different happening in the woods with the birds and the squirrels being the loudest and most persistent tattle tails, EVER!  However, their movements alone tell a hunter a lot, too.  If in the woods often enough, seeing, and paying attention to details, etc.  one can’t help but to learn their behavior and their “language.”

Even when the sky is blue and the sun is bright, nature and its inhabitants know ahead of time when a storm is approaching, and they each prepare for it in their own way.  I mean, how often do you see birds flying in the wind and rain?    Sadly, most humans have lost the ability to read the sky/clouds, winds, plants, animals, etc. around us.  Even as a child, while fishing down a long stream far away from where we pitched our tents, I’d note the change in wind direction and knew what to expect.  Our family fished in the rain a lot, ‘cause that’s when the native trout bite the best, so the rain was welcomed by my parents, not so much by me.  There was no turning back simply because our clothes were soaked.  That may be why I do not like being in the rain to this very day.  Hard to know.

The wild daisy (Oxeye Daisy) is a plant that grows about everywhere and is easy to see if one chooses to.  As a child, it was fun to pull off one petal at a time saying, “he loves me, he loves me not,” however there was another reason to become fascinated by the flower -it can be used as a clock.  The flower always faces the sun throughout the day, even if the sun is hidden by clouds, the plant knows where it is in the sky.   By morning, the flower will start its day by facing east and at the end of the day, it’ll be facing west. 

The dandelion and clover flowers are two examples, as well as many others, which can tell if a storm is approaching.  The more humid it is, the tighter the flowers close.  The same can kindah be said about the leaves/stems of the maple and poplar trees.  When those leaves droop, look somewhat wilted, and in the slightest breeze you see the backside of the leaf as it flutters, the weather conditions are changing quickly.  It doesn’t mean that it will rain, but most always, it will, or at least the conditions are right for a rain shower, at least.

Growing up, family vacations either found us visiting my grandparents in Mount Chase or traveling logging roads as often as possible. Often, we’d do both, visit my grandparents, go camping, and then visit them again on the way back through.  No matter what, the trip was always a long one, and not just by distance and time, but because I was so very anxious to see my grandparents and go camping, too.  To an anxious child, hours traveling seemed like endless days before we’d arrive! 

The anxiousness always started the second my parents packed a couple loaves of bread, canned potatoes, a small bag of flour, salt, pepper, and butter.  Canned potatoes because they were easier to pack and wouldn’t become bruised or over-heated enroute.  The rest of our food would be fish caught and berries picked.  We packed light, and we fished and foraged hard.

For hours, we traveled north before reaching my grandparents, then onto “Paper Company Land.”  Those roads were and still are slow and bumpy so if I were the napping type, the second we reached a dirt road, I’d’ve been jolted awake.   I always enjoyed watching the trip along the way, from the second we left our house to the point at which we’d pitch our tents.  Even as a little-little girl, I knew, that one day, it would be me bringing my family to such faraway places…and I did. We pretty much had our favorite places to pitch a tent.  Back then, there were no maps, there were no checkpoints, there were no campsites, and there were no road names or signs.  I simply paid attention.   I knew which roads to take, towns we’d pass through, and the store owners by name, too.  

As we slowly traveled those bumpy logging roads for hours on end, I’d speak up and tell my parents things like, ‘That’s where we saw the dead bear once,’ ‘We almost hit a moose there before,’ ‘We never caught anything in that little brook except for chubs.’   My parents always seemed impressed with my memory from year to year, but they had no idea how many times I’ve traveled those roads and relived those memories in my head.  I always wanted to be camping!  Always!  Now, over 50 years later, I still find myself living each day with just as much (more) appreciation as I did at the age of five!

One part of the trip that I didn’t like was how dusty those logging roads were, but only because they blocked my view as we drove along weaving around potholes for hours on end. Being unable to see, took away the anticipation of what awaited around the next corner -usually a moose.  With limited view from my very anxious eyes, only then, was it OK to have a quick rain shower to “keep the dust down” as my father would say. Like him driving, I wanted to see everything, so sitting in the middle of the back seat ensured that I’d be able to see through the windshield and side windows at the blink of an eye or the turn of the head.   

When the dusty road stopped my viewing pleasure for longer than a few minutes, I would instinctively glance at the poplar and maple sapling leaves along the road edges hoping to see wilted leaves fluttering in the slightest wind on a hot dusty day back.  This was back when there was no air conditioning in vehicles, and especially in our red truck with an extended cab.  Taught at a young age to identify certain trees, I knew if I saw the  backside of poplar and maple leaves as they fluttered in the air meant rain was on its way, even if it ended up being that five minute shower, it not only meant less dust, but it meant cooler air so we could roll down the truck windows again without choking on that road dust!

One is never too young to learn the ways of nature, and it doesn’t matter how knowledgeable you are, there is always something to learn, something to see, something to hear, something to smell, something to touch, and something to remember -the physical and emotional connections.

Illegal Campfires - A Concern in the Maine Woods

Copyright 2024 by Lori-Ann Willey 

IT IS CAMPFIRE SEASON and though there are people who scrunch their noses at the 2023 campfire code, I do not. Lemme tell you why.  There are legal campfires and there are illegal campfires. There are careful people, and then there are careless people. 

Our camp sits on a dead-end private camp road with only one little side shoot to access a hydro dam. The camp road is paid for and maintained by a road association of a scant handful of camp owners. The road is narrow and filled with "S-turns" until the edge of the lake is seen, then from there, it goes fairly straight. There is only one way in, thus there is only one way out -our only escape route. 

Over the years, I've not been the only camp owner who has disassembled illegal campfires at the dam…sometimes still smoldering. I'm not the only one who has concerns over the fires, the litter, the torching of trees with a flame thrower, the open gunfire, the spinning out vehicles, and 4-wheelers that leave trenched donuts throughout the roadway either. I will take the time to also mention, trash thrown on our property includes items such as underwear, panties, used condoms, dirty diapers, used tampons and pads, broken bottles, empty worm containers, beer cans, and discarded cigarette butts. I won't go into a situation several years ago, of a young couple having sex on a rock behind our camp. They strayed from their group for some private time and assumed, because all was quiet, that we were not here at the time.... or simply didn't care if we were. 

Aside from all that, there is a real concern about the possible fire hazards. With increased exposure and exploitation in this area, the increase in illegal fires, litter, increased chances of break-ins, and theft is a real concern.  Now, imagine an illegal campfire surrounded by softwoods and birch trees with natural oils that quickly and easily catch fire, hence why those tree parts are often used as fire starters.  

In an area of high winds, flames are either pushed toward us or away from us.  If towards us, how quickly and easily it’ll spread toward camps, blocking road access -our escape route. If away from us, it also means blocking our escape route.  

Now, picture this scenario and my situation with Paul, a Disabled Veteran in a wheelchair.  Being his official caregiver, I can tell you that a fire is a genuine concern.  If an illegal fire, left unattended or not put out properly and fully, depending on the wind direction, we may not wake before flames reach our camp or as the prewarning smoke filters through our windows.  Wind blowing in another direction pushes the fire along and crosses our camp road due to the many sharp twists and turns.  Either way, our exit is blocked by fire.

If you’ve never had to help someone into a wheelchair and into a vehicle then this concern may not resonate with you much, but I assure you, there is concern here.  With that said, I tend to be a bit protective of people when it comes to safety anyway, so there is that. 

Let’s say there is a fire, I can get Paul out and into the truck, what happens if the road becomes blocked by fire? Then, of course, I’d want to have time enough to warn and wake up any camp owner below us.  How can I?  You may think that because we have a stair lift to the boat, we can just go that way.  Ok, but if there is fire upon us, that stairlift works on power…it plugs into the solar system via converters.  Cords melt, and power is lost.  What then?  Tell Paul to tuck and roll down the stairs? The only way I’d do that push would be to save his life.  

Paul has recently been diagnosed with Stiff Persons Syndrome, which is no surprise, as it was suspected for a few years now, on top of all his other disabling medical issues that limit his mobility, but I won't go into those right now.  One may wonder, if such concerns and such limitations, then why be where we are in the first place?  Three words – Quality of Life. And as a Disabled Veteran, he’s already “paid his dues”, so to speak. If a wildfire goes through this area, the quality-of-life changes for everyone, not just for us.  

Though most people are responsible with their campfires, it only takes one match lit by one person to ruin the lives of others.  This is only MY personal story.  Others have their own.  I, for one, approve of this 2023 campfire regulation. However, there will be those who ignore the regulation, think they are exempt from it, and will do as they want no matter in the woods or within their own backyard.  Being responsible, or not, in certain conditions, even a small campfire can get out of control.  It’s a risk and gamble each of us take when having a campfire, legal or illegal.  It comes down to making the right choices, responsibility, the protection of these woods, and the people who live here.  Camp owners tend to be careful because we have so much to lose.  Careful or careless exploiters, not so much. 

Throughout my childhood, Smokey the Bear lessons were taught in school and reinforced by parents.  Does that still happen?

 

DISABLED VETERANS DESERVE A QUALITY OF LIFE, TOO

Copyright 2024 by Lori-Ann Willey

I feel so fortunate that these breathtaking photos capture the serene beauty that reflects the solitude that our private camp offers.  Both directions of view remind me of how incredibly fortunate we are to live in such a place as this. The American flag reminds us of the simple joys of freedom and the peace that nature brings to our hearts.

This quiet lake, with the distant mountain that stands majestically in the background, has lived in this landscape before man existed -how do I envy its place in history, its creation…the fact that it was here first. The solar panels, though hidden more each year is as if the land wishes to hide the intrusion of man.  They lay still and silent, symbolizing our harmonious relationship with the environment, embracing sustainable living while cherishing the near-untouched wilderness that surrounds us. The stillness of the water, broken only by an occasional ripple, invites us to pause and appreciate the solitude…to reconnect with ourselves and the natural world.  “To be one with nature” is not an understatement for those who are here for other reasons than exploitation for personal and monetary gain.  True nature enthusiasts do not entertain such invasive thoughts.

Living in this remarkable place has been a true miracle, especially as we work to improve the quality of life for someone with limited physical abilities who is facing medical issues as a Disabled American Veteran who's “done his time” and is mostly wheelchair-bound. The accessibility and peace of our surroundings provide an exclusive form of therapy, offering physical relief and emotional and mental compensation -nature’s exchange if you will. The relaxed environment helps ease the stresses and strains of medical challenges, creating a sanctuary where healing and well-being are nurtured by nature's peaceful and gentle hug.

These daily views evoke a deep emotional attachment to seclusion and nature. They remind me of the importance of preserving, to a certain extent, these untouched landscapes, where we can find peace, solace, and a sense of belonging away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Away from places and people who seek exploitation and monetary value for oneself over the value of nature and those who live within it -those who live in the woods for a different reason, and with a separate set of values. 

Here, a place where time seems to stand still, and the only sounds are the whispers of the wind and the gentle slap of water against the shoreline, against an exposed rock, and an over hanging twig, shrub, etc. This is our retreat, a place to escape, reflect, and rejuvenate in the embrace of nature's quiet beauty. We are truly fortunate to call this place home. Here is where we can find strength, comfort, and inspiration amidst the challenges we face.

I openly share our daily lifestyle despite the daily obstacles we face.  Although I am my husband’s caregiver, my posts are not doom and gloom as they could be had I a different mindset than I do.  Instead, I wish to show that despite the obstacles we are faced with each day, I choose to show that we are living examples of a positive mindset, and “Where there is a Will(ey), there is a way.” 

Sincerely, 

The Wife & Caregiver of a Disabled Veteran

Between Me and Mt. K. -Above and Below

Between Me and Mt. K -Above and Below
Copyright 2023 by Lori-Ann Willey

On this warm late summer early morning, the world seemed to hold its breath as the clock struck 3 am. The air split around my body and passed me by as a gentle breeze that carried the sense that not only was Mother Nature in slumber mode, but she promised peace and harmony. Above, the velvet-like sky reminded me of a black canvas -stretched just enough after it was painted so it revealed the little cotton divots exposed where paint couldn’t reach, each further enhanced -like diamonds against the black paint giving subtle hints of deep blue that had been tainted with a bit of green. White were the speckles -Mother Nature’s chosen color for the diamond-like stars -shimmering, blinking, and all seemingly the same, yet as different as you and I.  If one does not look, one does not see the changes minute by minute, night by night.  Crisp or faint, each has a light of its own and a story of their own.  Their light already traveled years before touching my eyes, telling me a story without words -their version of charades.

Beneath the shimmering stars was a nearly stilled lake.  At first, reflecting like a mirror doubling my nighttime view. From a dew-dampened deck, step after step, my bare feet gently stepped and felt each cooled, dampened board to the dock.  Down there, I had but a few seconds to watch the stars dance from both above and below before a light breeze picked up enough to erase them from the water’s surface.  Until then, only the silhouette of the lake-lined trees and majestic Mt. K divided star-filled sky above from the water below.  With the increased air movement, several loons sent out locator calls -such beautiful sounds to hear, ‘where are you?’, ‘I am here’.  Darkness and limited colors or not, I was surrounded by beauty both seen and unseen, and this sappy heart felt it all.  Appreciated it all.

After playing with a few settings so my camera could capture the view, I laid upon the damp dock boards and watched the sky.  I saw no shooting stars to wish upon -do kids still do that?  Even though my body sucked up the moisture and cold alike, I, in turn gave up body heat and after a while, I became a bit chilled. Moisture from the deck boards, or not, I propped upon my side, settling my head upon my arm and continued gazing upward at the dark silhouette of Mt. K (Katahdin). In my mind’s eye, through the darkness, I could see its jagged edges cut by glaciers of long ago, a distinctive and longtime figure against the night sky.  I thought about ancient Pamola tales, my Kinap story, and all those years of the stars that watched over this land from the beginning of time -Mt. K’s original guardian. Then, I thought about a painting I did once, a “black hole” opens above as if a cover to a jar, and an alien peers its eyes through to observe a captured world.  I had to smirk, because I always like a play on aliens of the stereotypical type as seen in our camp icons in the past.  Fun stuff.  All in good fun and wacky, or maybe distorted sense of humor, even if I’m the only one amused.

While my camera captured the view, I realized something.  The camera and I have something in common.  We are both observers and participants as we watch the universe and travel through time.  Though daylight approaches at a constant and stable speed, it often “stops” so I can become lost in the beauty of it all, while my camera captures 10 brief moments in a single photo as if time stopped briefly for an exclusive pose.  Thankful, I am that I live in a time when such things are capturable in one way or another. This includes my heart when it comes to nature.

Though still surrounded by darkness, and as the stars slowly faded away for the day, I was reminded of the song titled, IF.  Like most songs, I changed the words a bit to better suit the moment, 'Then one by one the stars will all go out".  More than 45 minutes had passed and as Daylight approached, she brought more wind, and chillier temperatures.  I had been outside laying on those dew-dampened boards long enough.  It was time for coffee.