Walking for Peace - walking for love!

                                          New walking partner!

I have barely walked since the last blog, but I have been busy babysitting. My best walk was on a greenway trail with the baby. I pushed the stroller, and the baby slept, then we came to a bumpy bridge. The jolts of the wheels woke the baby, and he looked up at me surprised. The shaking stroller wiggled the little fat jowls on his face, and the surprised expression made me laugh, laughing so hard I had to top walking for a moment. It was a beautiful day, the sky deep blue and the green of the trees contrasting brilliantly.  I am looking forward to walking on that trail again.  

Now we are in NC, walking around the neighborhood area, finding time between rain and family duties.  We walk on paved roads in a deeply rural area, and unfortunately we pass a lot of litter. Yesterday’s walk included taking three different soft drink bottles out of the dogs mouth. On the news I have been following a group of Buddhist monks walking for peace, walking from Texas to Washington DC. They were in Alabama last week, and they crossed the bridge in Selma where  years ago violence met the desire for equality. The monks walk, praying for peace, hoping to pursue peace and promote peace. I can’t think of a better reason to walk, especially this year. While our president is bombing small boats and killing men that may or may not be drug dealers, and while he is challenging the leader and country of Venezuela, possibly hoping for a war, these men are quietly walking, quietly praying. Is peace possible? These men think so. They have been inviting people along the path to join them as they walk. People have lined the roads cheering them on, handing them snacks and water. I know peace is wanted. Peace is a noble goal. Who is it that doesn’t want peace?  Our leaders, our neighbors who voted for and still cheer for these leaders may say they want peace, but one can’t pursue peace through violence. As we lock people up for being “dangerous illegals” and for “living while being brown” these men are walking. I wonder what would happen if millions and millions of us joined them, and we all walked into Washington DC together, walking for peace?

One of the monks is 71 years old. One has lost a limb. They are walking along busy roads, and walking on hard cement and concrete is difficult on their feet.  In one article the writer spoke with the monks and wrote the following: “Yesterday, the Vulnerable Monk said this is a walk brutal on the body, the mind has to take lead and they must practice mindfulness with each step.”  This is what long distance walking teaches, and maybe this is why we think of the wise people as walkers. The wise walk and think, having time to ruminate on the issues. I hoped that my year long walking would help me to think. I am not sure if I have achieved any goals of wisdom, but I am calmer, and maybe that is something. 

Last night the news was loud, with the commenters praising our president. Footage of the bombing of those possible innocent boats was playing over and over. New warships will be created, named after this man. The news channel fosters anger, fosters a sense of urgency and fear, of us against them. I will not mention the channel, but we all know which one it is. I can sit and stew in anger, I can argue fruitlessly with people I love, or I can chose to mentally walk, with mindfulness in every imagined step. I moved to the back of the house, and searched for some music. I came across a song, A Dios le Pido,  This song is about asking god for peace, for no war against innocent children, at least in this version. Three singers in three languages, Spanish, Hebrew and Arabic, begging god for peace. I listened to it several times, until it washed the anger and fear from my body and mind. Music is also  mindfulness steps, also the way to channel and control the mind and focus on what is important. One line from the song says, about war, “it’s a huge monster and steps heavily on the poor innocence of people.” 

Let’s walk for peace. Let’s protect the poor innocence of people.

I have walked only 9.2 miles since the last blog, making a total of 492 miles total. I still have the majority of the AT ahead of me. I plan to continue until I am done. Then perhaps, maybe, I will be able to fulfill my dream of actually walking the trail, actually climbing those mountains. Maybe that is not my destiny, and instead I will mindfully spend more time outside, closer to home. Either way I am enjoying working on this blog and walking locally.

 A new and wonderful thing has happened! My daughter had a baby boy, and I am now a grandmother times two. My first grandson is 3 and the new baby is almost 3 months old. I am staying with my daughter’s family and caring for the baby while everyone else goes to school. I love every minute of being a grandmother, playing with the 3 year old in the evenings, and caring for the baby during the day. My walking, though, has really slowed down. Now I am lucky to get in a half of a mile each day. This will improve as baby and I find our schedule. For now I push him in a stroller when the weather is good, but he often gets hungry or fussy before a lot of distance is covered. That is OK, we are slowly developing the love of walking and outdoors, one small stroll at a time.  When my first grandchild was born I did the same thing, I had the great honor of staying home with him for his first year. I walked with him often, pushing the stroller up and down the Tennessee hills, and I plan to do the same this year. My parents instilled the love of nature, and the joy of walking in me, and I think my kids got some of that as well. Now the next generation is here, ready to explore the woods, mountains, trees and fields. A new generation to discover the beauty of birds calling as they fly, to discover the feel of chilly wind on their faces as they climb a mountain trail, to love the sound of streams dancing over rocks and falling down as waterfalls. A new generation to care for the wilderness, to try to protect it and to share that love with their friends and neighbors. Perhaps someday these two boys will also take tiny hands in theirs and walk outside under the blue sky. My grandpa took my dad out walking on the family farm, my parents took me out walking on the wild trails of the Tetons and through Yellowstone, as well as on the family farm. I took my three kids out walking, in the North Georgia mountains, in the Tetons and Yellowstone, along our neighborhoods, and on the family farm.  The love of nature, of all that is wild, is a gift to be passed on one little child at a time.  This blog today will be short because the baby is waking up, the sun is shining and the stroller is waiting. I have walked 25.37 miles since I last wrote, and am now (on the AT) at The Lost Mountain Shelter in Virginia, the next state along the trail. I plan to keep recording the miles and writing these blogs until I have finished the AT, but I have a long way to go. The only way to get there is to start, and to keep sauntering on. See you on the trails!!

Dreams, books, birds: All bring joy!

 

I’m reading a book about birding, the over the top birders that try to see the most birds possible, perhaps someday even all the birds.  A large number of birders, mostly men, engage in a competition at least with themselves, over how many birds they can identify and list. Some go for the life list, and others go for a big year, how many birds can one see and identify in one year. I love reading these kinds of books, but I have no desire to accumulate and tally lists. I love to watch birds, and I enjoy identifying a few of the interesting ones, but mostly I like being outside with nature, birds, and insects and other wildlife. I have no desire to count the number of states I have visited, (44), or the number of countries,( 8), or National Parks, (no idea). I remember hiking with my mom in the Tetons, and saying it would be a fun way to frame travel, to see how many parks or states I could hike in, or bike in. I felt like it would give me a framework for the adventure. She thought about it a moment, then said, “I would be afraid the joy of travel and experience would be lost in the counting.”  She is right, at least for me. Even so, I love these types of bird counting books, and have read many, (8).

Right now the book I am reading is called To See Every Bird on Earth, by Dan Koeppel. Dan has written a biography of his dad, and his own childhood, and framed it around the birding craze that his dad was part of. In his dad’s story birding was a dream deferred. He started as a young teenager, and counted and listed birds most of his life, but for a time he quit in order to get the medical degree and career his parents wanted him to have. Chasing birds was not a career, and biologist or ornithologist wasn’t a high enough aspiration for them. He gave up for a while his dream, and focused on the things we all have to focus on, work, family and obligations. At one time the author wrote the following quote:

“Sometimes we have to find a way to change our lives, to re-embrace that which seems to be vanishing. Other times, we simply abandon our dreams.”   The book is a testament that one might abandon his dream for a time, but then later one might re-embrace the dream.  I am sure most people have dreams they have given up on, even if they followed other dreams. When we make decisions in our lives, sometimes we have to decide between things, have to abandon one thing to access the other thing. We chose family over graduate school, or the other way around. We chose one career and not the other. But sometimes we can find our dreams, either completely or in a like manner. We are never too old to learn a new thing, never too old to try something new. A couple of weeks ago an 81 year old woman finished the AT. I play tennis with an 82 year old. My last blog was about how we don’t know the end of the story. This is true with dreams as well. Until we have completely reached the “end of the story” we will always have the possibility of achieving some dream, or a part of one at least.

 I have started drawing. All my life I doodled, and scribbled, and enjoyed sketching but I never actually studied how to do this. I just messed around. Now I have a teacher, who happens to be a family member, and I plan to see how much I can learn. My first homework assignment has been to sketch a leaf a day. What a cool assignment. Most days I thought about taking some time to sketch, sometimes I would take a pad of paper and pencil with me on hikes, but often I would either forget or decide not to take the time. Now, I have permission! I draw every day, and it brings me great joy! I love starting the day outside, looking for a leaf to draw, or going on a walk and picking up a leaf. Other times I open my ID book and draw the leaf, bud and flower of a tree, and that helps me to remember the names. 

This month I have walked in Alabama, Tennessee, and Georgia. Walking is always a part of my vacation, and a stress reliever when my travel isn’t vacation. I have covered 64.3 miles, not that I am a counter, and my total for the year is 460. This puts me at the Abingdon Gap Shelter in TN, but the very next shelter is in VA, so I am steadily moving north.  I wonder if a sketch pad and pencil would be too heavy to carry on a through hike, along with all the books I want to read, and a notebook for writing. 

The End of the Story

Why I like to read, in one quote. The following quote is (more or less) from The Lord of the Rings, by J.R.R. Tolkien. 

"We don’t know the end of the story, we don’t even know the end of our own story.  This should give us comfort." When someone we love is making bad decisions, we don’t know the end of the story. When we lose a job or lose a relationship, we don’t know the end of the story. We may feel like there is no hope, but in looking back at history, or even in looking at literature, sometimes the time with little hope is only the dark spot before the end of the story, and things will improve. I got this idea from watching a series of videos by a man reading The Lord of the Rings for the first time. This is my favorite book series in the whole world, having read them I don’t even know how many times. J.R.R.  Tolkien excels at making us feel like all hope is lost, before turning the tide and bringing victory or rescue.  Also I enjoy Star Trek, all of the series and story lines. Many times one character will be lost and in danger, and have to fight to rescue themselves, and they do so with the hope the crew is also working to rescue them. I guess the message is never give up hope, never stop trying. Last night we watched an episode of the newest Star Trek, and in this story one character was lost on an asteroid, stranded in danger with an enemy as the only other survivor. . She kept working to escape, to get a message to her crew, and she kept saying, “They are searching for me, I just have to let them know where I am.”  It was true, and in the end she was rescued, because she figured out how to let the crew know where she was. Why am I writing about this? I believe this is how we get through life. We believe things will get better, we believe that even though we can’t see the end of the story we know it is there. We hope that both ourselves, and others, are fighting to make the world a better place, even if we can’t see it at the moment. Looking at history we can see times when the future looked bleak, but slowly we come out of the bleak times.

 

I’m not trying to be naive, it is true that sometimes the end of the story is a bad ending. I have read enough books to know many have sad or tragic endings. But, as long as we are moving forward, we don’t know how our ending will be, and so, when unknown, the ending can be anything, 

So far my walks this time period have been much longer and nicer. Twice we walked at Wheeler Wildlife, and enjoyed seeing birds of all types. Pelicans have arrived, and they fly in large groups before landing in the water to feed. I watched an egret until he flew out farther into the water. Another day I walked on what we call the Truck trail, where I saw lots of butterflies and moths, but not many birds. My favorite walk was at 7 Island Bird Park in TN, a beautiful place that feels rugged and isolated but isn’t far from Knoxville.  The bird feeders at the front of the park were busy, and the walk to the river was straight. I turned off the main trail and once in among the trees I found a deer. She watched me as I watched her. Finally she ran off and I continued. I meandered all over the park, and at the end I followed a trail up to the highest section of the park. I climbed up through the woods, and at the top of the hill turned to a clearing, to find a mother deer and two young ones. The mom kept an eye on me, and flicked her white tail nervously, but one of the youngsters was very curious, and he or she really wanted to know what I was. The mom and other kiddo would move away, but the curious one stayed closer, watching me. Finally mom took off through the brush, and her two youngsters followed her out of sight. I kept walking, enjoying monarchs, and goldenrod, and many other blooming fall flowers. It was a perfect evening and a wonderful hike. If I ever disappear, I am probably living there, deep in the woods with the deer.  I joke about that, but sometimes I hope the end of my story involves wilderness and peace on a mountain. 

Slow walking and beauty in nature

 

                                                   Beauty and Sadness

This month has been a slow walking month.  We have seen the passing of life, and the adding of life. My mother in law passed away, and my newest grandson arrived. In the midst of all this my walking has taken a back seat.  One day while the family was hanging out at the hospital after the birth of the baby, I took my 3 year old grandson exploring. We walked down a hallway of the labor and delivery and found a huge window overlooking a water fountain. His eyes lit up and we stood at the window for a long time watching people wander in and out of the doorway. Finally we couldn’t stand being inside anymore, and we found the elevator and worked our way outside. We walked over to a garden area, and he explored around the bushes, walking on the mulch. He found a few smooth painted rocks. He said he was farming, and began trying to dig, but the ground was too hard. Playing outside after a long day waiting for baby brother to arrive was just the right thing to do. For a couple of days after the birth, my daughter and I would sit outside with the two kids, the newborn and the 3 year old, and just hang out. We sat in the shade, with snacks, water, diapers and wipes, and we played, or nursed and relaxed. A little outside time helped with the newborn jaundice, and gave the older brother a place to run and be loud.

After being away from home, it was nice to explore my own neighborhood and to enjoy my yard again. Fall is the only time Alabama is perfectly comfortable, and so I am trying to sit outside some every day. My dog and I walked our normal pathway, but we did it in reverse. Somehow the views are very different, and feel new. 

 I am struggling to not be overwhelmed with the news. I find our time that we are living in right now very depressing. I know our country has been through hard times before, and I hope our good generous spirit will overcome the angry revengeful leadership we have now. Running some errands today I listened to a podcast, and the hosts talked about a miner strike in Colorado during the depression. The mining company evicted the miners and their families from the company provided homes, so they had to move into tents. The national guard was called, and shots were fired, killing several people including a 12 year old boy. The miners were mostly striking for safer working conditions, and for this the National Guard was brought in. I used to live in West Virginia, and that state has a history of miners striking and government retaliating as well. We have been through the Civil War, Indian removals, wars and massacres, violence due to people fighting for civil rights, violence due to children daring to attend “all white” schools, and violence against those that are gay or trans. Our history is full of times of cruelty against those that are in weaker positions. Although people talk about how all the things we are going through right now aren’t normal, that isn’t entirely true. Maybe what we should say is that the times we are going through should not be normal. In a time when science can know so much, why is it that so many people don’t understand it, and don’t trust the knowledge they gain. Why do we fear vaccines, when these very vaccines save lives every day. Hopefully these problems are still growing pains. I see post after post making me think most people have given up, and making me feel the same. Scrolling online just increases the feeling of doom, of hopelessness. We all want and need to know what is going on, and to know what we can do, but we must avoid drowning in despair. When I am discouraged, or in despair, I go to the woods. Sometimes I just go to the yard, and stand under a tree. I stand under my magnolia tree, watch the birds, and listen to the breeze. Right now I am watching a cardinal that is resting on a hickory tree, waiting for me to stop writing and refill the bird feeder. There is nothing so bad that a few minutes in whatever tiny spec of nature we can find can’t help. My grandson farming in the hospital landscaping, and me writing under a tree, my daughter resting in her yard, it is all the same. We are soaking up some beauty from the sun, from the wind and from the sounds of life around us.  Sometimes life is hard and sometimes it is beautiful, and sometimes those things are both true at the same time. 

I walked a whopping total of 10 miles these two weeks, putting me at 370 miles along the trail.  I am one mile from the Cherry Gap Shelter in TN.  Slowly I keep moving, along the trail and through my days. 

Pungo Lake, mysteries and finding balance in nature (and a bear)

 

                          Pungo Lake, mysteries and finding balance in nature (and a bear)

This past couple of weeks have been hard, and I have not walked much. I have read several murder mystery books by the author Carolyn Graham. These books were the inspiration for the BBC mystery series A Midsomer Mysteries. She takes her time in setting up the plot, and developing the characters. None of her people are perfect, everyone is strange in ways that seem right and familiar. Most of the people are judgmental and harsh, or uncaring and selfish, but there seems to always be a couple of “right nice blokes” in each story as well. They were written in the late 1980”s, and they remind me of what the culture was like then. I thought the world was full of feminism and independent women, but I now I realize those stronger women were still outliers then. Her writing is fun, and very creative. In the book I just read, the word murder isn’t even used until near the very end of the story. 

Today I have to sit outside, all day. We are having work done in the house, and the worker isn’t comfortable with our dog. I’m not fully comfortable leaving her outside alone all day. I think I have forgotten she is a dog. But the truth is, I love being outside. Today is like a self imposed vacation. I’m sitting under my huge magnolia tree. The day is warm, and too hot for sitting out in the sun, but perfect in the cooler shade of the tree. Tree shade is wonderful. While a tree is doing its thing with photosynthesis, the leaves are also respiring, and letting cool moisture into the air. Under a healthy tree is the best place to be. We bought this house partially because of this tree, and this yard. And yet, how many days go by when I only set foot outside to let the dog out, and to toss a ball or two. Or I go outside to mow, which I enjoy, and work in the garden. But I rarely just sit outside and watch the day go by. When the kids were little I used to say, “Tomorrow is an all day outside day.” Everyone would cheer.  We woke up, took our breakfast and my coffee outside, and began to play, work, pull weeds and dig tunnels, draw with chalk and enjoy lunch on a quilt under a tree. The kids would ride bikes, or climb trees, or play in mud, depending on their age. Those were my favorite days, and I’m sure the kids enjoyed them as well. I don’t think we did them enough. So today, I had coffee outside. I brought out a bag with my quilt and supplies, a book and snacks. It has been wonderful. I don’t feel guilty because I have workmen in the house and my car is in the shop. I can’t go anywhere anyway. I can’t do laundry, and don’t need to do anything else. It’s too hot to weed. Above my head wave the large magnolia leaves, around me flutter butterflies and bees search for late summer flowers. The dog rests nearby, every once in a while bringing me a ball, then after a run or two returns to her shady spot.  I watch the sun move across the sky, and the neighbors work in their yards and then go inside to do other things. I haven’t seen a lot of birds today, maybe it’s too hot or I’m spending too much time in my book.  After a few moments I notice it is hot, and I lift my hair off my neck. A breeze blows, cooling me off and I forget the discomfort.

Reading books that take place in the ’80’s is both good and bad. I remembered the way women were treated at times and how we saw ourselves, but also during that time we had no social media. We had no phones in our back pockets. Kids played outside, roamed neighborhoods and lived on their bikes.  I’m pretty sure we weren’t as divided as we are now, but that may not be true. I remember the Moral Majority, Watergate and the Vietnam war, the aftermath of the civil rights. I think the late 70’s and the 80’s were a time of rest in a way. Having a 24 hour news cycle and all the social media has kept us from having time to reflect. We hear and read things that are upsetting, we don’t have time to fully think and process or even vet the information before we hear the next upsetting thing. I plan to slow down, to slow my partaking of news and information and to rest a little. I plan to sit under the Magnolia tree of life and let cool breezes flow over me instead of stewing in the heat of all the problems of our time. Maybe we all need a little rest. Go outside, sit under a tree, and just be.

I walked a whopping total of 16 miles these two weeks.  Three of those miles were in a refuge in NC, where we saw a bear, or at least a glimpse of one. It’s funny, we saw so many bears in my childhood, but this is the first one I have seen in ages.  We walked in the Pocosin Wildlife Refuge, a place that claims the most bears per square mile of any place east of the Rockies.  My son and I were walking along a dirt road, hoping to see Pungo Lake, when he saw the bear. I saw only a black shape moving down a tree, and my first thought, strangely, was Monkeys. The bear had quickly climbed down a tree, and I could see the tree swaying wildly in it’s wake. We stood for a few moments trying to decide what to do We had only walked 1/2 mile or less, and wanted to continue.  We were being eaten up by gnats and mosquitos when we stood still, and the dog was extremely interested in the patch of woods where the bear had been, or was. We decided to retreat back to the car and try a different spot. We drove on to another location, and were able to see the lake from a boardwalk right at the parking spot for the car. No real walking but pretty views.  So with fewer miles this time I”m only on mile 360 of the AT.   Maybe soon I will actually start walking more than a mile or two here and there.  But, I am outside, and that makes me happy. 

Butterflies and pollinators by Shelley Hopkins

                                        Hike and flowers and butterflies, great joy!

 I walked a little bit more each day this last month. The best day was on my birthday, when my son and I walked over 5 miles at the Wheeler Wildlife Refuge. This is one of my favorite trails, it circles behind the building used to observe the sandhill cranes when they arrive. We enjoyed the walk, and got to see some interesting birds and lots of butterflies. Also one day my husband and I took our truck and drove a dirt path on another section of the same wildlife refuge. I didn’t count this trip since we didn’t walk, but the views and the sheer number of butterflies we saw were beautiful. At one time three landed on me, and another one kept buzzing my face. It was thrilling, I felt I was in the middle of a butterfly dance, and I was the new visitor they all wanted to check out.

 Another of the walks was on our family farm in NC, where I also took place in a pollinator count. I walked across the fields, found some wildflowers, and sat down to count all the pollinators that landed on one single bush. There were quite a few butterflies flitting about, mostly yellow sulphur, and bees buzzing around near the trees, but fewer critters landed on my flower than I expected. The idea was to count every landing on a single bush or flower for 15 minutes. I counted 2, then started over, moved back further away and counted 6.  Earlier I had counted at a pick your own flower garden, and I counted 22. In a yard, close to sprayed fields of soybeans, I counted one.  Making myself sit still for 15 measured minutes allowed me to really focus on watching. I watched while a grasshopper leapt from one grass blade to another. I watched the flowers bend as the bees and butterflies landed on the flower, and then straighten back up when they flew away. I’ve never been good at sitting still for a period of time, but having the timer with me made it easy. I plan to do this often, just for my own interest. 

The pollinator count is part of a citizen science project, that has taken place since 2017.  It started in Georgia, then expanded to South Carolina, and now includes Alabama and North Carolina. The group that started the count had several reasons in mind, but the number one reason was education. Many gardeners and teachers know about plants, soil, and water, but in general know much less about insects. Several public gardens were growing lots of vegetables but not getting the amount of produce they expected, and the woman that started the count suggested planting flowers. The flowers would attract pollinators, which would help with the vegetable plants. Over several years these gardeners found their yields increasing as well as having fewer harmful insects in the gardens. Teachers were working hard to teach kids about gardens, about compost and watering and eating the produce, but in general teachers knew less about the insects, and so didn’t teach as much. Schools and families and individuals take place in the pollinator count, and learn along the way. Also all the information collected goes to a database that is being used in research, helping scientists track the insects. Everyone who took place in the count recorded the weather and time of day. We had a sheet of paper describing different bees, flies, wasps and butterflies and moths. When I tallied 22 insects, I actually tallied one bumble bee, two small bees, three flies and the rest were butterflies and moths. I can’t wait to find out what the overall census tells us. 

 It has been a good month, counting bugs and watching birds, reading books and just being outside. On my pretend hike I am now in Erwin TN.  I have walked a total of 343 miles this year.