So, being good girl guides, we figured that a quick reconnaissance mission was in order. By the time Yule peaks at Soltice, the land will be covered with snow. Since we are still new to the area, we are still learning our way around the woods that are a short walk from our house. Better to get the lay of the land before the snow blankets everything. As it is now, there are small patches of snow and ice, but you can still see where you step.

So, once I got home from work we bundled up and packed a bag. First stop was the local pub for dinner, of course. It turns out that the local pub has a ugly sweater night for the holiday season and we happened upon it.

Once properly fortified, we walked down the road, down the hill, through the culvert and into the woods. Ottawa has tonnes of greenspace, including the wonderful Greenbelt. Which you can see in satellite images. We are lucky enough to live in one of the Greenbelt’s armpits. Well, less lucky and more picky about where we choose to rent our townhouse!

We crossed the little stream and bypassed the couple of camps homeless people have set up at the edge of the woods. We discussed whether or not to leave a box of cookies for the campers when we return on solstice.

We wandered around, showing each other spots where we have done ritual before. Climbed a hill, choose the clearing at the top of the hill to be the spot for our Solstice picnic and climbed down the other side of the hill.

We gave a few offerings, clipped a few goodies for our bags. I was on the lookout for mushrooms, as Ms. Dirty put out the challenge to find mushrooms. Unfortunately, while full on winter has not arrived, its been cold enough, long enough, that there isn’t much for wildcrafting. Except for conifers.

The land is very sleepy. We greeted a few trees and tried different methods of sensing their quiet, drowsy energy. Then we crossed the creek, getting our boots full of cold water. There was more aimless wandering before we crawled under the shelter of a big spruce tree. Over a fence and then back home again. For hot chocolate of course! Sorry, no pictures this time guys.

No related posts.

January 2009. Misty Acres, near Greenwood, British Columbia:

My little plastic children’s sled, which is the colour of a perfect summer sky, slices into the snow with a slippery, rustling, skittering sound that repeats with each foot step. Sssshhhhhhhkthh … Sssshhhhhhhkthh

I lean forward into my momentum, gripping the black cord around my waist for added strength and stability. My black boots slip into the layer of fresh powder snow to shin deep before finding the hard packed stuff beneath.

My breath puffs out before me, like a steam engine. Falling snow finds its way into my eyes every time I glance up, leaving me half blind. I do not need to see. My feet know their way along this narrow path from my mother’s home to mine.

Along the long driveway past the horse pasture, then a sharp turn off the ploughed area and onto my little trail in the winter landscape. Then I scramble my way up the first bend on the steep incline of the mountain. I am bathed in moonlight; on my left side is the slope of an alpine meadow, to my right the forest pushes in close to my trail.

Upon my sled rides precious cargo: 10 litres of water, a bag of dog food, and a few staples for my own comfort.

I lean further forward and move with a slow and steady pace. Each step a careful and considered action, pushing through powder, finding purchase, hauling my body and the weight of my sled another stride closer to the top of the incline. Sssshhhhhhhkthh … Sssshhhhhhhkthh

When winter first came I would stop half way up and rest. Now I carry on, pushing myself to keep my momentum going. I promise myself I will stop and rest at the top, just a little further.

Lacey, a Beagle wearing a purple sweater, bounds ahead of me and waits at the top of the incline, knowing this is the first resting place of our journey. A scent-hound-nose leads the way. Her hunter senses will alert me to any possible danger or the presence of any movement other than our own upon the mountain side. When I reach the top of the first incline and pause she dances about me with excitement. My little hound, a heart beat at my feet.

At this point I stand at about 900 meters above sea level, though it’s not far to valley floor below.

The next leg of our journey is a stretch of even ground I call “the tunnel”. This is a length of track cutting across the mountain rather than up it, the forest bordering so close on each side that it reaches over the path and creates a canopy above my head. On dark nights, when the Moon is missing or veiled, the tunnel can become so dark I cannot see my hand before my own face. The true darkness of the countryside is found here. Luckily tonight the Moon is out and bright, though we pass through shadows I can find my way in keeping with my pact with the spirits of this place: To not travel upon this trail at night with a light unless absolutely necessary. The flashlight sits in my pocket, in case of need, but each trek along the mountain without it earns me more trust and respect from the genus loci.

Adjusting the cord around my hips, I grip it tightly and set off through the tunnel. This is Lacey’s favourite part of the journey; as I begin to move she clambers onto the sled. This flat portion of our trail is the only part where she is permitted to ride, adding extra weight to my burden.

As I walk I murmur quietly to the mountain, “Gentle Eholt, please allow us safe passage and permit us to travel unmolested upon your shoulder.”

This mountain tumbles large boulders regularly, has consumed the remnants of what was once a gold rush town and the wind is always racing across it in a swirling dance. Yet in my mind, the mind of a woman raised amongst mighty ranges of mountains with hot springs, glaciers and murderous rivers, I find this mountain to be gentle. Or at the very least, I hope it is.

I move swiftly through the tunnel and finally come to an area along the trail where the forest on the slope below me gives way. Lacey and I are again bathed in moonlight, treated to a view of the mountains across from us, two or which are named Diablo and Phoenix respectively. I can just make out some of the lights from the ski runs on Phoenix. The valley floor is flooded with “mist” which is really a low lying cloud. This hides from view the road (Crowsnest highway) that cuts through the valley and the neighbour’s cabin below. I stand part way up a mountain, well above the clouds, the stars and Moon shine brightly in the sky. A curios young hound stands at my side. The only indication of human existence is my own self, my sled and the distant lights of the ski hill.

Pulling my scarf down from my face I suck in cold, clean air. Raising my arms, I begin my recitation. Whispering to the night sky, the Moon, the stars, Land, the river below, the valley, the mountains and all who dwell within. Bidding all a good night and offering my thanks for sharing their home with me.

I take up my black cord again and Lacey races off and then back again, urging me to hurry towards home. We are on the last leg of our journey now. Up a slight rise and around two bends we go. The light from my home now begins to peek out at us as we come to the final turn.

As we near the old elder tree (that stands guard at the edge of the clearing where my home sits) Lacey calls out to her pack “AROOOOoooooo”

They respond with enthusiasm, charging through the doggy door and onto the deck, dancing along the fencing of the front yard. Lacey greets them through the fence, no doubt bragging that she was chosen to walk with me and they were not. I wave cheerfully to the old elder and hurry the last few meters to my front gate.

Related posts:

1. The Way it Goes
2. Things I Understand
3. The Dawn Chorus

In a crisp and clear winter-y night
A thin silver sickle illuminates the sky
The snows down below
Where I’m walking you know
Glow in a soft pearlescent white

My little hound, my blue sled and I
Raise a hand and a snout and give a shout out to
The hunter and the bull upon southern skies
The stars and the moon hang low and close
When walking upon my mountainside

The glow is so clear and so bright
I do not bother with my flashlight
From her journey around the Earth
Silver moon once again returns
And acts as my guide

In the cold and the snow I cannot help but to smile
And decide to go with the feeling
It can be rather difficult, you know
To dance in the moonlight
When pulling a loaded blue sled
In new moon light

Related posts:

1. A Walk
2. Things I Understand