Today I snowshoed for nine hours, and fell into a brook.
Yesterday, I found some chaga, spotted a fat grouse, and chased a coyote.
Everywhere I walk, I find that moose have been there before me.
Two weeks ago, I started employment in what has been labeled “America’s most remote settlement east of the Mississippi.” Chew on that for a minute.
I am doing the work that I have been hoping to do for so long. I can now, finally, call myself a forester. I get to interact with wild French Canadian loggers. And as long as I don’t drink the water, everything will be alright.
I had to purchase a pickup truck for my job, so now I am one of those people.
Driving on back roads, listening to country music, saying 10-4 left and right… you know how it is. Hopefully I don’t take those country lyrics too much to heart and spend all of my paycheck on Wintergreen Skoal.
This afternoon, as I lay on top of the brook’s fragile snow crust (the -40 F windchill blowing gently through the fur of my coat hood), I dared myself to slowly move an inch or two in a feeble attempt to free my trapped foot. But instead of being frustrated with myself for being so stupid, I thought about how warm I felt inside.
I was warm temperature-wise, yes. Despite the cold, I am much warmer now than while I was unemployed, sitting in my frigid home watching cat videos all day long. But I also felt warm happypeacefulwarm. Happy to be spending my days exercising (for pay!), happy to be getting to know the land around me, happy to be doing work that I enjoy, and most of all, happy to be living life so fully, in vibrant shimmering flag-waving colors.
Now I just have to figure out how to stop making microwave cake mug brownies for dessert, and start making some blog-worthy recipes. I have ideas, but I don’t really have the time. Every night, I am exhausted. And you know what?
I love it.