The trees below are from someone’s “Other Side of the Trees”, not mine.
A road, or a path, or both, heading outward or inward; or both. It is good to be out, accompanied by trees. It was my path. Yesterday, I knew I was to be … there. I was concerned about more firewood.
We had snow … two nights ago, and a lighter sprinkling last night. Our wood, close to the house, is almost out. That makes sense, as we are on the final snows, I think. My backup firewood is down on the other edge of the property. There is a place where one can pull in, or back in, there. I have used the space to pile up downed trees. After I chainsaw, I haul up the logs to our house, right after I chop. But this past summer, I kept chopping and never got around to hauling. I made my way through the thick two feet of snow, pulling a long sled behind me. A strange sight: shoveling snow off logs. I loaded the logs on the sled, and used bungee chords (which are like gold) to keep the logs from falling out of the sled. Once back at the house, out of breath, I unloaded the firewood. I was looking forward to calling it a day, when I couldn’t ignore the dog, Stash (short “o”), her .deep resonating barks … just loud enough to be a nuisance. Stash is our Bernese Mountain Dog.
To get Stash into the house requires a patient “herding” strategy. How do you herd a dog that has come from many generations of seasoned Swiss “herders”? I walk through the deep snow one way, then walk back the other way, depending on where Stash is going.
Once inside, my daughter gave me a great hug … and she said “Dad, you smell good!” I didn’t know if she was being serious. I thought she was talking about my perspiration. She said “You smell fresh, like you have been out with the evergreens.”
Now, all of this was happening on my “Other Side of the Trees”. But the picture at the top is of trees from someone else’s “Other Side of the Trees”. My hope is that you are able to find your own quiet place: your “Other Side of the Trees”, or some other beautiful, healing, place.