By Michael Suchorsky
As of November 11th Winter touched Andes. I started only the third fire of the season, which coincided with my bringing in a couple of heads of cabbage, plus using the last of my summer tomatoes— impressed that 95% of the 100+ green cherry tomatoes I had picked ripened on the windowsill.
While spreading last Spring’s wood ash around apple trees, small areas of the sky opened here and there in the distance, casting dark blue, mauve, hints of rose, on the earth tones that surrounded me. At the same time, snow squalls appeared in the distance. Finally, one moved directly over me, dropping a good amount of soft snow pellets that had me elated. The first snow of the year—actually the first of anything elicits elation, and implies good fortune. . . in me.
Meanwhile, the Christmas Cactuses started budding while a couple of small leaves on the Poinsettia have started turning red— even though I did not place it in a dark closet to maximize 12 hours dark time in October.
On the 12th I instantly decided to walk the Rail Trail & Bullet Hole Trail, even though it was after 4 pm when I departed to drive there. Heavy clouds made the day close out quickly, and from the time I left the car till coming back down the steep part of Bullet Hole, I was walking very fast. I frequently couldn’t see the trail descending Bullet Hole and was often taking mincing steps. By the time I joined the Rail Trail it was so dark I was straining to see reflections of the dark cloudy skies on the darker ground to avoid walking through puddles.
Today, November 15th, returning from my bi-monthly trip to the big town (Margaretville), I walked the Palmer Hill Trail loops. What a difference walking by daylight! What a beautiful planet we have here. A number of times I actually had prolonged stops of the chatter in my brain and merged with the energies of life surrounding me. Moving through the earth tone landscape (once again), broken only by the green of majestic spruce and the lighter green lichen growing on their branches, as well as snow sitting along the tops of stone walls, cupped in curled leaves, adorning thick beds of moss, the exclamation point of the day exploded. While negotiating a passage through a stone wall, there lay a single scarlet hawthorn berry on one of the rocks. My universe pulsed, then returned to perfect calm.
Sun Ra says, space is the place, but Andes also rocks.~