Monday, February 23, 2009
A walk on the ice, nest building & some ouzo after work ....
"Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow."
(San Francisco born)
Some lines from: "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening"
Could winter ever become fun for me again?
When I moved back to Minnesota, I rented a house by a lake for several months. Sunday, I drove out to that lake, parked in the driveway of one of my former neighbors, talked with him for 30 minutes and then went for a walk on the ice.
I have spent a fair amount of time walking on the ice, starting as a boy playing hockey and going hunting. I had not been on it for a couple of years now, and I had forgotten how much I enjoy walking on it. I have lived by lakes. I think that is one reason this winter has been harder on me than most. I live in town, not in the country by a lake or a river.
I have not walked on the ice under a full moon for a long time. I have not heard the ice and the water beneath it "talk" -- gulping, gasping, swallowing, roaring, rolling, cracking, crackling, the sounds reverberating, coming and going, beneath my feet -- for a long time. That is another "end of the earth" sensation. True winter is something to be enjoyed, and that does not happen when winter has been reduced to shoveling sidewalks and driving on ice-covered roadways.
Sunday, my ice walk was in daylight instead of moonlight, but it still had a familiar, comfortable feel to it. I really am in need of wind, water and sun, very much so. But, maybe after a few years of such living and then settling in the "right" location, it would be possible for me to enjoy winter once again.
Women, and the desire for nest building ....
When you cannot sleep, what do you do? I have been up pretty much all night for two nights in a row. This is not insomnia, either, at least in the usual sense, and this is completely unlike me. I normally fall asleep within two or three minutes of my head hitting the pillow. (Once asleep, the slightest "unusual" sound awakens me, but I sleep right through even the loudest "familiar" sounds.) These two nights, I think, have been the result of dwelling (too much?) on thoughts about once more changing directions in my life. Which direction to go now?
This seems to be a common dilemma running through many blogs. So many individuals are experiencing change or seeking change in their lives. I said once before, and I quote myself now: "There is so much wonder in the world, to see and to know. My choice would be to have experienced 1,000 jobs in 1,000 different locations before I 'cash in'."
The essential question here is, do I accept the fact that to do this, to continue seeking new experiences and new country, means that I most likely will do it alone? Or, do I actually think that maybe, possibly, I will randomly encounter a woman who could love me and would have the same nomadic attitude toward life as I do? It seems to me my position is in direct conflict with the innate instincts of a woman. If that sounds chauvinistic, so be it, but are not all women nest builders?
Ouzo on the beach, but only after work ....
New idea: I have participated in two archaeological digs as an amateur volunteer. (That means no money and a lot of grunt work.) One was at a battlefield site (hiking up and down a steep hillside, up and down, sweeping the landscape with a metal detector -- uff da). I was there for two weeks. The other was at a prehistoric Native American campsite, near which had been uncovered an ancient dugout canoe. That was my first such venture, and lasted a week. Really fascinating.
Anyway, "Archaeology" magazine contains advertisements for such projects round the world. At least it once did; I signed up for a subscription again last night after an absence from it for a few years. I'll soon learn if such projects continue to exist. Possibly, this would be a sensible way to begin a trek around Greece.
I can envision myself on my hands and knees for a couple of weeks, digging and sifting dirt. Then later, sipping brandy on a sandy, secluded beach (all right, in this case probably ouzo), and cooling myself in the "wine dark sea" of Odysseus. That would be an appropriate reward to come after "the dig."
Maybe ideas like this are why "true love" is difficult to find. Good idea? Bad idea? Thoughts?
Music Note: Back to the radio, listening to a classic rock station ....