Two In The Woods Sun, 25th November, 2013
"If you have ever gone into the woods with me, I must love you very much." These are some of my favorite words from poet Mary Oliver, as she describes the joy she finds in a solitary walk in nature. I feel the same way and I tend to invite others along very selectively.
Yesterday I invited my son to join me for a hike, despite the unseasonably cold weather. I suggested we try Castlewood State Park which I had never been to, despite its nearby location in West St. Louis County. He agreed, and soon we found ourselves gliding along the sandy path that traces the Meramec River.
We walked mostly in silence, for that is how we communicate best. As usual, Owen and I approach nature with a sense of awe and wonder. Like Christopher Robin with his pals in the Hundred Acre Wood, we embarked on a big Explore, climbing a giant fallen tree, scrambling up and down the river bank, throwing rocks into the river, and craning our necks to admire the dazzling white upper branches of Sycamore trees against the blue sky.
We were not the only two companions tracing the bend in the river that afternoon. I spotted a pair of large dark birds in trees on the opposite bank of the river. As they flew away from us, I noted the brilliant white tail feathers and a moment later glimpsed the white heads of two mature bald eagles. Eagle sightings are always thrilling, but I don't recall ever seeing a pair together like this. It seems they were on an Explore of their own.
I looked up eagles in the dictionary of bird totems in the book by Native American writer Ted Andrews (Anna, I must give your book back to you, my dear!). Among other powerful symbols, he notes that the eagle is also a symbol of the rediscovery of the inner child. That was fitting for our jaunt in the woods, which made us feel like we were two kids on top of the world.
Few words were spoken between my son and me, but that makes the few that were all the more memorable. My favorite comment from my son was when he climbed up on an old concrete wall, the apparent skeletal remains of a disused railroad bridge from early in the last century. His words, as if spoken by a boy half his age, were simply: "Look how high I am."
Perhaps the eagles heard it, too.
"If you have ever gone into the woods with me, I must love you very much." These are some of my favorite words from poet Mary Oliver, as she describes the joy she finds in a solitary walk in nature. I feel the same way and I tend to invite others along very selectively.
Yesterday I invited my son to join me for a hike, despite the unseasonably cold weather. I suggested we try Castlewood State Park which I had never been to, despite its nearby location in West St. Louis County. He agreed, and soon we found ourselves gliding along the sandy path that traces the Meramec River.
We walked mostly in silence, for that is how we communicate best. As usual, Owen and I approach nature with a sense of awe and wonder. Like Christopher Robin with his pals in the Hundred Acre Wood, we embarked on a big Explore, climbing a giant fallen tree, scrambling up and down the river bank, throwing rocks into the river, and craning our necks to admire the dazzling white upper branches of Sycamore trees against the blue sky.
We were not the only two companions tracing the bend in the river that afternoon. I spotted a pair of large dark birds in trees on the opposite bank of the river. As they flew away from us, I noted the brilliant white tail feathers and a moment later glimpsed the white heads of two mature bald eagles. Eagle sightings are always thrilling, but I don't recall ever seeing a pair together like this. It seems they were on an Explore of their own.
I looked up eagles in the dictionary of bird totems in the book by Native American writer Ted Andrews (Anna, I must give your book back to you, my dear!). Among other powerful symbols, he notes that the eagle is also a symbol of the rediscovery of the inner child. That was fitting for our jaunt in the woods, which made us feel like we were two kids on top of the world.
Few words were spoken between my son and me, but that makes the few that were all the more memorable. My favorite comment from my son was when he climbed up on an old concrete wall, the apparent skeletal remains of a disused railroad bridge from early in the last century. His words, as if spoken by a boy half his age, were simply: "Look how high I am."
Perhaps the eagles heard it, too.
