I often ventured

I often ventured

Out on a snowy day

Freely and with no qualms.

Big outback hat.

Boots of course, and

A long floor length black raincoat.

That was the only thing big enough

To cover my belly in the winter of 1985.

I was happily and hugely pregnant.

This was perfect for my wintery walks

Boots up to my knees

Legs covered by the long flaps of this great coat

Going east or west on the main Manhattan thoroughfares,

14th St. or Canal Street in particular.

It did not matter how much wind there was.

I just put my head further down and nothing leaked in on me.

I felt impervious.

Floating above the puddles in the wind.

It also had a zip-in lining and so covered all seasons.

In addition to the body, it had sleeve linings with a button at each wrist so when you took it off, it would not bunch up, turn inside out and be difficult to put back on again.

My black Australian outback hat.

Very stiff and shaped with a long-extended brim all around.

Waxed fabric, waterproof.

Raindrops and melted snow dripped off the front or the back,

depending on my posture,

and what I was focused on.

Weekends in the country.

Looking up to soaring treetops.

A pinch of sky among the dark pines.

Bending down to cup a lone flower bobbing in the breeze.

Or press the spring of the moss then

Reporting it to the authorities.

Me of course, I was the authority!

Out all the time, keeping track of the progress of new spring life.

In the moss, were the little soldiers in their red suits,

At attention,

Standing up saluting.

Or viewing a clear drop from a cerulean bluebell,

head drooping down in shyness.

* **

Now, 1995 I'm taking my kids to school.

We were six houses away on the same side of the street.

I could stay on my sidewalk and never need to cross over.

(We picked the house so that babysitters would not have to drive our children in a car to school.)

The two little younger children loved walking all the way to school underneath this wonderful great coat, one on each side.

The older one proudly walked in front, with no competition for leading.

What a shame the day someone late for work went flying by crashing through snowy puddles and filled up both side pockets of my coat with dirty street water. Quite upsetting for the children underneath as the water flew sideways and thwapped the coat. Annoying for me, but just rudeness. There are always some people that behave like that.

After we got to the overhang of the school entrance, we all paused as my two little chicks hopped out. I then removed the coat, grateful again for the buttons of the lining attaching it to the sleeves and tipped the whole thing upside down beyond the pavement. Probably 3 quarts of water spilled from the pockets. It was unnecessary but happened that day.

The eldest marched into school proudly soaking wet.

And a good thing for boots.

* **

20 years later we were out in the country with our three children visiting for a holiday from college. Sheer joy.

“Heading out for a walk. Anyone coming with me?" I call in a singsong voice.

“Oh, there’s mum going out for a walk in the rain…” said one.

“No, thanks mum!” said another.

Off I went.

The hills were full of daffodils planted over the 25 previous years.

So many types and colors, aroma strong,

Wafting down the hillside in irregular swaths

Till I reached the Pond.

So much shrubbery blocking off and directing the view.

The stone steps were big and massive and secure. Huge thick slabs, cut into the hillside, curving down the slope. Gradually over the years I tucked in bits of different mosses and little ground covers along the sides of the stairway.

I loved arriving at the big open stone semi-circle below. Then more traditional regular steps ran down the center which were from a church in a neighboring town.

The deacons of their church had saved them for many years after a terrible fire took down the complete church decades before.

In the reconstruction, these beautiful steps were not considered relevant by the younger congregants who were financing the new church.

They made the most beautiful grand descent to the semi-circular terrace with curved seating on each side.

By then I was almost level with the pond.

Two huge slabs of limestone from the cold cellar in the basement of the original farmhouse were set to cross the ten-foot grassy area prior to stepping into the pond. Laterally they could be driven over or parked upon. The first one was centered, and the second one was centered on the first. There was an irregular right-hand side.

About three months later in the sandpit, I found the missing section of stone for the second piece. The missing puzzle piece.

So satisfying! Jubilant!

It went off to the right and looked off center. It worked like a painting not having a central bullseye focus point. It certainly felt complete. I felt so exhilarated having found it.

Tiny little creeks ran downhill from way up above through the woods out onto the meadows that lead into that pond.

Walking all around the pond was pure delight.

Deciduous along the edges.

Walking back into deep conifers

Following narrow deer paths all the while.

Plunging deeper into the forest.

There was always a trickle of water ahead or behind to orient me.

This great black coat protected my legs from scratchy things; no barbs, no thistles.

And I was dry.

Drops kept falling off the beautiful soft green leaves after the snow started to melt.

The wind tickled them with a little breeze.

Huge deep moss muffins totally changing the under growth.

A relief on the feet!

When I got all the way to the back of the property, there was a huge ravine drop off to a creek at the very bottom.

It ran into a high waterfall that tumbled down one hundred and thirty feet.

There were two turning points in the upper section at the beginning of the cascade; one was a circle of 210°. Carved out over centuries, it resembled a perfectly round drum.

Further down the next point of change was from the water plunging down into a deep hole and splashing back up vertically, smoothing out a beautiful S shaped edge before cascading to the next drop off.

Down, down, down I went.

Boots catching in cedar roots where all the dirt had been eroded. Skidding over smoothed out stones. Big steps, small steps, turning sideways not to slip. The spray of the falls was on my face.

I reached the bottom.

* **

Several hours later, I walked in the back door.

Happy. Tired. Satisfied.

“Oh, Mum’s back!” I heard from the depths of the house. I dropped my coat on the porch floor and hung my hat on the only available hook. Spruce, our old family cat rubbed against the back of my legs. Normally he would accompany me on a walk but not on a snowy day like this. He stayed watching the flakes fall.

This wonderful coat companion is waiting for me in storage up north in the Delaware Water Gap.

I just need to find my next woods and forest, meadows, and streams.

I am counting on that.