Thursday, November 17, 2005
Yet another walk at the Point
It was one of those magical mornings at Lemoine Point in Kingston, Ontario. When I left the parking lot for the woods it was bleak and windy. Fine flakes of snow were coming down sideways in the cold breeze. I was welcomed to my walk by the loud call of a Pileated Woodpecker from far away, the cry carrying through the leafless trees and seeming to come from every direction at once. There was a blanket of silence over the park that seems to be a feature of grey skies, cold temperatures, and barren landscapes. The silence was interupted here and there by the talking of trees as bare branches reached out to each other as if rubbing there limbs together to keep warm. There were birds and animals present here and there but they were particularly subdued and discrete this morning. A rabbit slipped away into a gathering of low shrubs, three deer feeding in a field allowed me as close as I pleased as long as I promised to be as quiet and slow moving as themselves, and even the Blue Jays were less nervous and more contemplative than usual. As I came towards the end of my walk the sun came out bright and warm against deep blue sky and white fluffy clouds. A pair of Pileated Woodpeckers high in the tall trees by the lake caught the sun and their red crowns danced as they worked their big hammers against the crumbling bark. Oh, the gift of sight and sound and sense, and Oh, the gift of spirit and soul to be able to respond in the depths to the wonder of the Creation.