into the woods
This is the time of year for goodbyes. The final remains of summer’s warmth yields to jackets and hands stuffed in pockets by late afternoon. The leaves fall quickly now, gold and burnt orange, imprinting their spines on damp pavement. Soon the trees will be stripped bare, their branches needle-like against steel grey skies.
I set out Sunday afternoon to walk the land that I know so well. The woods and fields where our farmhouse used to stand. The land calls me back this time of year, and I respond from the heart, from the gut, from need. I walked for hours, alone and alert to my longing. Each time I visit I unwrap memories and turn each one over, holding it gently and with longing, knowing that I will have to let it go. And each time I walk those familiar paths through the woods, the memories stir and form pictures against the landscape.
I see myself cresting the top of a hill. Walking slowly, pausing to fill my body with breath straight from the belly. Hands on knees, then hands on trees as labour contractions surge through me, sweep over me. I see our three dogs trotting single file down a narrow path in the tall grass, breaking free in the open meadow, bounding to the forest beyond. I see my children in the farmhouse kitchen, the dogs at their feet, a baby being nursed by the wood stove. I see us awakening the gardens in spring, planning and sketching the summer’s bounty, giddy when seed packages arrive in the mail. I see us putting those same gardens to bed, insulating and bracing windows against November winds, chopping and piling wood. I see a husband who is no longer alive, as he was then—filled with the peacefulness that this land infused him with. I see him painting in the studio, a baby rocking in a seat by his side. I smell the meals we cooked, the bread baked, the herbs that were hung near the wood stove to dry. I see the grain of the wood in the harvest table and feel the coolness of the painted kitchen floor beneath it.
I remember love that was made and love that was torn from me. I remember laughter and I taste the tears born of confusion, pain and surrender. I remember never having been so happy. I remember the day I said goodbye to a marriage and drove away, leaving him alone atop the hill. I remember losing my compass. I remember profound regrets. I remember the dull, clinging ache of loss. I remember that life nudges us forward even when we’ve fallen to our knees and the weight of our sorrows has us bound.
I walked for hours, pulling on mittens and buttoning my coat, the wind cold against my neck. The sky became broody, telling me it was time to head home. Standing at the site of the old farmhouse, boots covered in leaves, I pictured it one last time surrounded by ancient trees, gardens and those who loved it. I whispered my goodbyes out loud and walked down the steep lane, pushing tangled brush aside with every step. I reached the bottom and in the marsh at the road’s edge, came face-to-face with a Great Blue Heron, each of us startling the other. It spread its wings and majestically rose above.
My memories are rooted in this land. They stand strong, they endure, like the tallest of trees. They will always call me back. And we will say goodbye again.
Marvellous pics
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Thanks kindly! X
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You are welcome♥
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I admire your courage and sincerity when writing about your memories. Thank you for the wonderful journey.
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Thank you, Rhéa! I appreciate your sweet words. I’m so glad you’re here! X
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So elequently and poignantly written. The landscape clearly needs you as much as you need it. x
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Thank you Steven. For your words, your support and for being here. XX
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The way you capture ‘here’ in I words and images, it’s a place I am always pleased to visit. X
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Dearest J, I’m teary and so moved by this post. XO You are strong beyond measure to be able to return to this place so full of memories, good and wrenching. You are brave. I’m not able to go back yet. I tried once and it nearly did me in. Maybe one day. XO
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Thank you for your beautiful, comforting words, Krista. It does me in as well at times. I never escape without tears. I never leave without offering apologies for my mistakes, for what I wished I had known better about myself then. It hurts to go back. But it also holds elements of home that no other place has since. I cherish the very best memories and try to gently relinquish the rest, finding forgiveness for myself and for mistakes that we both made. So much history there, so many events that shaped my life in good and important ways. I’m grateful for that, pain and all. XX
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Oh my. My heart aches for you. For memories that are both good and awful. Have been there, done that. Forgivenss is a place that has to be visited often and it is painful to forgive others and yourself. The photos are lovely may your heart be healed and renewed and in the spring as things are bursting in life, may yours be rebirthed into a new season.
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I linked this post onto my post for today. Your words have touched my heart and sparked a post for me. Thank you for sharing your heart. I appreciate you.
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I’m so glad you did. Popping over to see what you’ve created! XX
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hope you like it… your words still are in my heart.
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Thank you for being here, for your comfort, and for your understanding. I’m holding on to these words! X
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as I will your boldness in writing… so many of my stories are similiar and yet, I cannot write them yet. Thank you.
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Such beautiful writing.
x
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Thank you very much, Lynne! X
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Oy. Tears that wouldn’t stop for a moment. How precious is every moment of our existence, so much weight to the passages of life, the choices, the babies, the husbands and lovers. So inexplicably fleeting yet so rooted deep into the earth of our very being and soul. I’ve cried enough tears on this one to last the week out. So many memories my love. They all came flooding back. Still so sorry I wasn’t there for your number two. It would never happen that way today. I tried to figure out why and had to re-remember that my number one wasn’t with me and J was looking after him and it had only been a couple of months. I will always carry a burr under my saddle for that. But everything else came back that we’ve shared. My number two, being there at the farm with him so fresh…everything everything. Even truth or dare! Oh I so look forward to a big glass of delicious red wine and some fab food with you and the poetry laughter and tears of our re-connecting. It’s a carrot for sure. But I may have to get you down here for it! I love you much.
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Our history is staggering. We’ll be old, rad ladies with never enough time (or bevies) to recount all the stories we share. But I’m up for the challenge. The other day I was looking at farmhouse photos and the ones of you carrying D in his pouch out in the fields made me ache just a little bit. I MISS you and love you all the more. XX
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…and maybe we will blaze some new stories as rad old ladies! Missing you. xoxo
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