. . .and all to ourselves

Hats off to Chairman Joe for building his 12-by-8-foot Cabinet in the woods 347 steps away from it all. Let's hear it for deliberation! I was on a ride with my siblings the other day in eastern Massachusetts, and on our way to Concord to visit our parents' grave, we drove past Walden Pond. It was early afternoon, and rangers were directing visitors to move on because the park had reached capacity for the day. How ironic, I thought to myself. Thoreau's solitary horizon, bounded by woods all to [himself], has become a mecca for mankind's games and amusements. The board and baton nobility of Joe's place - all set off to the side of life's creek - appeals to that part of me that loves respites from life's noise and distractions. Don't we all crave a little alone time? 

Although Thoreau had one chair for solitude in his house, he also hosted what he described as a three-chaired society and entertained up to thirty souls at a time at Walden (albeit all standing up). Since I suspect solitude is what Joe's after in his Cabinet, it's good that he built his place two-thirds smaller. I hope he's careful about the number of chairs he carries in. I don't have a Cabinet for solitary reveries, but I do have a screen porch. A few weeks ago, it would have been bustling with activity. Family members would have filled all seven seats, with others sitting on the stoop or leaning on the doors. We'd be chewing on all manner of meals and conversation. Plans for the day get tossed around, as do reflections on the previous ones. The coffee table spilled over with a jigsaw puzzle, and phones were out despite the din of congregation. Whether alone or surrounded by my people, this screened-in part of our house is my all-time favorite spot. 

As I write this post, I'm sitting on the porch alone. Our kids and grands have returned to get ready for the school year, and, in the quiet, I'm breathing a sigh. Besides gathering on the porch, we all like taking walks in summer. I like how my daughters' faster pace keeps me going, and I enjoy how conversation pairs form, then naturally shift into new groups as we walk along. Yesterday, with everybody gone, I trekked off to the woods alone. Instead of shooting comments to companions to look at the majesty of rocks, I stopped to admire their heft, wonder about their placement, and took the time to soak up their strength. Instead of gushing to companions about my love for pineneedled pathways, I slowed my pace to take in the way nature broadstrokes beauty with the uncountable fineness of lines. When walking alone in the embrace of nature, no one else hears my chatter about the prettiness of the day, so I take the time to feel the breeze brushing against my cheeks, taking swipes at my hair. I take little sit breaks that sweep the voice of hurry into the trash where it belongs. 

Gone, when I walk alone, is the worried strain and sweat of not keeping up. I make the pace my own. I celebrate mosses that might otherwise get ignored. I bend to caress their deep green moistness and thank them for how they ring the trail. I stop and peer into the pond and look down deep for traces of turtle, sunfish, and an elusive pickerel. I watch the wind swoop on water to sketch out quick designs, admire lines that sparkle, merge, disappear, and slow my breathing. I spot filaments of spider threads I might otherwise have missed that lead me into the intricacies of my own unfolding web. I chew on the grace and grizzle of my relationships, puzzle out snares, stare into unknown questions, and make up new ones. Walking alone gives me more chances to look up, and the vast blue sky helps me see more clearly. As I walk along, the soft sweetness of the forest floor takes hold of me, and I feel more settled. I'm no longer oblivious to the path before me, and take in the crisscrossed chaos of broken twigs and severed needled branches. I see the way green and brittle brown ferns dance together side by side. I appreciate all manner of growth and stark decay. Life and death are frank and unapologetic.

We are on our way home to the city at the end of next week, and looking forward to being with everyone again. Like Joe and Thoreau, I trust that time alone improves the quality of reunion.

And all to ourselves!