Backwoods Blog .175

PINE NEEDLES

Backwoods blog;

in the woods and on the road…

Walden Pond Contact Sheet (2004)

As I returned through Hosmer’s field, the sun was setting just beneath a black cloud by which it had been obscured, and as it had been a cold and windy afternoon, its light, which fell suddenly on some white pines between me and it, lighting them up like a shimmering fire, and also on the oak leaves and chestnut stems, was quite a circumstance. It was from the contrast between the dark and comfortless afternoon and this bright and cheerful light, almost fire. The eastern hills and woods, too, were clothed in a still golden light.The light of the setting sun, just emerged from a cloud and suddenly falling on and lighting up the needles of the white pine between you and it, after a raw and louring afternoon near the beginning of winter, is a memorable phenomenon.

from Thoreau’s Journal; November 21, 1851

I have been surveying for twenty or thirty days, living coarsely – indeed, leading a quite trivial life; and tonight, for the first time, had made a fire in my chamber and endeavored to return to myself. I wished to ally myself to the powers that rule the universe. I wished to dive into some deep stream of thoughtful and devoted life, which meandered through retired and fertile meadows far from towns. I wished to do again, or for once, things quite congenial to my highest inmost and most sacred nature, to lurk in crystalline thought like the trout under verdurous banks, where stray humankind should only see my bubble come to the surface. I wished to live, ah! as far away as a man can think. I wished for leisure and quiet to let my life flow in its proper channels, with its proper currents; when I might not waste the days, might establish daily prayer and thanksgiving in my family; might do my own work and not the work of Concord or Carlisle, which would yield me better than money…Nothing is so sure to make itself known as the truth, for what else waits to be known?

from Thoreau’s Journal; December 12, 1851

As the days of November number fewer on the calendar, daylight and temperatures diminish in similar manner. It sneaks up on you gradually, until one day it hits you, “Where did all the color go?” This time of year the northern New England landscape can feel a bit dismal, stripped down and devoid of color. While the cold can be invigorating, the stark and barren surroundings can mess with your mind-state. We have a large white pine that stands in front of our cabin. When it drops its needles in November (not all of them, of course), it buries us in golden needles covering everything in sight like “pick-up sticks” in intricate arrays. The needles provide a soft cushion as you walk and ground level sunlight dances in-between on clear days. Thoreau talks about the white pine needles while they are still high on the tree, as sun and sky and needles mix it up. One’s mood can be instantly boosted by such a chance combination. Lack of color does not mean lack of nature activity and inspiration.

Years ago I took a trip to Concord, Massachusetts and visited Walden Pond. I took my 35mm camera and a couple of rolls of black and white film to document the trip. (Those were the days when we still used manual cameras and developed film.) On the contact sheet you can see a reproduction model of Thoreau’s cabin which is located at the park entrance on the south side of the pond. Granite posts mark where the cabin actually stood on the north side of Walden Pond. Photo #13 shows the view of Walden Pond from the cabin as Thoreau would have viewed it. As you can see, the structure was modest in size, but the creative space inside was as expansive as the world. From his December 12, 1851 journal entry Thoreau mentions the survey work that had occupied his time during the past month, but now, he looked with anticipation to the winter days ahead that allowed opportunity for creative reflection, work which “would yield him better than money.”

The news cycle of late has me feeling like I need to take a break and head to the cabin as well. It’s a good time of year to get a fire going in the wood stove, put a pot of coffee on, turn off the radio and listen to the sound of burning firewood and the crackling of your own thoughts. There’s a lot going on in the world right now (and I won’t get into that), but maybe I don’t have to fix it all right now. I’m just sitting here with a good cup of fresh-ground coffee and looking out the window at a gray, but exhilarating world. Solitude creates a (much needed) space where our thoughts can circulate and avoid looming panic. Sometimes a person just needs time to think and distance oneself from one’s own confusion like clouds dissipating into sunlight. Oh look, the sun is still up there.

In the woods,

Dave

November 17, 2024