The Light Lens: Immersed in skunk cabbage in Canadice

by T. Touris –

I love my canoe.  A summer afternoon floating on a serene Hemlock Lake is a beautiful thing.

I’m quite fond of my cross-country skis.  Gliding through Harriet Hollister Park in the sunlit frigid air is a great way to shake the winter blues.

My bike is like a comfortable old shoe.  Cycling over paths and quiet country roads is both relaxing and invigorating.

Since moving to the area, I’ve barely used my canoe, skis or bike.  It’s puzzling, it seems that by being closer to these wonderful places one enjoys them less; takes them for granted.  During a recent stroll through the woods, I began to see what’s really going on.

It is said that the only way to learn to speak a foreign language is to live in a culture that speaks that language.  Over the last several years I’ve explored our woods on snowshoes, muck boots and sneakers.  I’ve begun to recognize the patterns of tree barks and animal trails.  The 10-15 minute daily walks in the woods have replaced the occasional half-day recreational excursions from suburbia. 

I hope to eventually become fluent in skunk cabbage.