- When Gwen the Beautiful and I first moved to Paradise,
way back at the beginning of the century, we had ourselves what our neighbors
called "a right fine string of winters."
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- Snow. Ice. Wind.
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- At night the temperature dropped below freezing. During
the day it got up to the low 40s, but usually with plenty of sun.
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- The pond froze over.
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- Snow covered the ground for three or four weeks, give
or take.
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- Enough snow so that I could sit on a piece of metal roofing,
push off, and go sledding down the driveway without fear.
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- Winter wonderland weather is what we had.
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- Last winter, however, we had only two good snows, and
the temperature didn't get much below 50 till February, and then it went
way far down.
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- This winter, the temperature already has had its downs
as well as its ups, but as someone who spent far too many years in "climes"
so warm they might as well have been climateless, I'm still waiting for
some snow to arrive.
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- Today, however, I pushed myself beyond waiting. The weather
was cold enough for me to feel the need, and the energy, to go for a walk
in the Cloud Creek Ranch woods.
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- Emmy the Bold and Decker the Giant Hearted already were
outside, so they came along with me as I started down the back hill. As
usual, Emmy strutted, while Decker galoomphed.
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- We picked our way down the trail, and as we left the
clearing I was enveloped by the sensation of being in the most primal -
and primary - of spaces. As though this forest was the only place there
was, even though I could clearly see the outlying world beyond the gray
trunks and branches.
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- I wore boots but still felt as though I were tramping
barefoot through the spongy layer of brown leaves that covered the earth
so thickly that I couldn't feel the Ozarks rocks.
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- "Fairy mulch," Decker said.
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- "What?"
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- Decker swiped at the ground with his front paws. "The
leaves are mulch for the fairies to grow what they need."
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- "They aren't really fairies," Emmy explained,
like the mother she is. "They're the spirits that dance all around.
You can feel them, can't you?"
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- Of course I could. The woodland animals and - mercifully
- the insects were quiet, all holed up, but the forest felt completely
alive. I sensed invisible beingslife!everywhere.
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- Felt them capering through the sharp, fresh air.
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- Heard their rustling voices.
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- "Welcome back," they said.
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- And, "Where have you been?"
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- "It was too hot last summer for me to enjoy the
woods," I explained. "Too humid. Too many snakes. And then, when
it turned fall, I just forgot. I was caught up in the habit of sitting
in the house instead of exploring out here."
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- "You missed so much," the spirits that make
up the woods said to me. "You missed the buds and the flowers and
the young armadillos. The vines pushing themselves upward toward the sun.
You missed the pack rats collecting their acorns and the falling leaves.
The trees saying good-night as they closed their thousands of eyes for
the season."
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- The spirits continued. "Now, though, there still
is time to explore. Before the snow you want so much makes the footing
too difficult and sends you sliding without your metal roof sled."
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- The dogs and I reached the Original Settlers' Cabins.
I hadn't been down to them since last March, and they'd deteriorated considerably.
Roofless, the cookhouse looked like an upside down lean-to. The dogs dug
around in the debris, looking for something to chase.
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- I climbed to the bench I'd placed on the rock ridge above
the cabins a couple of years ago. Sat down beneath the wind chimes hanging
on a branch overhead. "You're awfully quiet," I said to them.
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- A light wind blew from the southeast, and the chimes
played. Unable to scare up any fun at the cookhouse, Emmy came over to
me. Immediately, Decker rushed past her and - effortlessly - leapt onto
my lap. He took my whole head in his giant mouth. Held it there so he could
lick my face.
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- "Don't waste too much time," the wind chimes
said. "Walk. Explore."
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- Decker released my head. Dropped back down to the ground.
He and Emmy followed their noses. I followed their lead.
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- Walking.
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- Exploring.
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- Listening.
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- To the spirits of the woods.
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- My sense of comfort, my habit, my pattern already had
made me lose out on so much. Nothing was going to make me miss the exploration
of this day.
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- Copyright C 2007 by Larry Brody. All rights reserved.
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- Author Larry Brody's weekly column, LIVE! FROM PARADISE!
appears on his website, www.larrybrody.com. He has written thousands of
hours of network television, and is the author of "Television Writing
from the Inside Out" and "Turning Points in Television."
Brody is Creative Director of The Cloud Creek Institute for the Arts, the
world's first in-residence media colony. More about his activities can
be seen on www.tvwriter.com and www.cloudcreek.org. He welcomes your comments
and feedback at LarryBrody@cloudcreek.org. Brody, his wife and their dogs,
cats, horses and chickens live in Marion County, Arkansas. The other residents
of the mythical town of Paradise reside in his imagination.
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