Can A Meadow Love A Man?

This is the story (illustrated, of course) of a love affair. I know you can already see that first picture and you are wondering to yourself what a road through the woods has to do with a love affair. Perhaps you are already looking forward to something torrid, true confessions, or an Indie screenplay. No, this is a story about a love affair between a piece of land and a man, actually, a boy, but then later, a man.

This piece of land is about a quarter square mile of private property within a good walk from my back door. It is a different back door now, but when the land first fell in love with the boy, the distance was almost exactly the same, so nothing has changed. The boy moved a little bit, but the land has stayed where it has always been, as land will mostly do. As a man, I am grateful for the access to this land granted to me by its caretakers.

I have used the piece of land you are about to tour with me (should you wish to come along) in several of my stories, placing it, oddly enough, in Virginia. But it is this land that has been the inspiration.

This is how you enter the place - on a road through a quarter mile of fairly dense woods.


You go up a little rise and you get the sense of light up ahead before you actually see it. This is a theme that will carry through the tour, and I think it is somehow significant - coming out of darkenss into the light. That's part of what this land means to me.

Be patient, you will see.



There it is, just ahead.



Whenever I get to this point, I pause, whether or not I have a camera, which I usually do. You should know, I guess, that I usually have a reason to come here. It's a little like going to church, I suppose, but going to church not just for the usual Sunday ritual that is somehow a sense of obligation, but going to church for some reason.

Are not those trees and the light beyond them like the doors of a cathedral?



Here is my meadow, or more accurately, the first in a series of meadows that are in love with me. I wish you could see it as it really is.

Do you think it silly that I say this land is in love with me?

How else should I describe a place that understands me as well as she does? (Yes, I slipped into "she" because "it" is not the right word to use for something you are in love with. I'm not sure "she" is right either, but it's way better than "it.")




Here I have cried, yelled out loud in exultation, sang, written poetry, listened to music, stood silently, looked at the future - and the past, and examined the preent. Through all of this, she is constant. Is that not love?






Let us walk a while. I will show you how this land is always different - always has something to give. Always growing, always changing. That is why I come here, because this land accepts change, embraces growth.

It is a good place to come when that is happening to you, or you are wanting it to happen.



Say good-bye to meadow the first for now. We will return anon.


I fear this little lady stayed too long to play. She is all but done in, but still beautiful, don't you think?



The woods are full of marvelous things, if only you will stop to look.



Like trees making love! (There, have I satisfied those of you who were expecting a visible love story?)



And giant green candles in the woods.



And early Christmas ornaments.



And twisting paths with suprises around each corner. Much better, I think, than those paved highways with signs that tell you where you must go.



And choices to make.



Ad then a sense of light again - off to the right through those trees.



Another gateway to enlightenment.



Follow me - there is still much to see.









Through those trees, yet another meadow.









Have you ever meditated in a meadow? You might think it wouldn't work - too much sensory intrusion. But it does - what can be better than the sound of the trees rustling, the feel of a breeze on your cheek, the jays calling, the smell of the damp earth, the warmth of the sun? These do not intrude, they invite. Being in this place is expansive.



Back through the woods again...



...for more magical things.



And step again to the light.



The old pond is still there, although it has grown a bit ragged around the edges. If you think that applies to me as well, you are so entitled.



You can see, as well as feel, renewal all around you here.



You can find the flame of inspiration. This place is my muse - I am blessed by my muses!



We have nearly come full circle...



There - at that low point in the trees in the distance - is where we came into the story.







Half way up the road I pause for a pipe. There's nothing quite like a nice pipe on the home stretch of a walk through the woods. Maybe this is where I should tell you how I feel about this place. I have flown kites here, launched rockets, done all those things I listed above, but about ten years ago, I wrote this:

Every once in a while, you should make time to go to a place where there are no people, no man-made sounds or objects. Just clouds and grass and sky and trees. No buildings or streets. A place where nothing matters except who and where you are. You should preferably do nothing. Well, nearly nothing. For once, let your senses take over. If you must think, think about the forms in the clouds or the warmth of the sun, or the texture of the place where you are standing. If your “to do” list or grand strategies intrude, replace them with the voices of the birds or the music of the breeze. Let your ears hear the absence of the spoken word or the telephone ring and the motor running.

Think about this place you are standing on at 3:00am. Are there animals about? Can you hear anything? See anything? Are there stars? Are you afraid? Of what?

Think about this place you are standing on 100 years ago. Where was the nearest human being? What was he doing? Was he thinking in English? What would you say to him? What do you want him to know? Did this place look the same?

Think about this place you are standing on 100 years from now. What does it look like? Have your great grandchildren ever been here – seen this place? Have they sensed your presence? Do they know about you? Do they whistle Puccini? Do they love life?

You should do this occasionally. It will do you good.

Thank you, my land, my muse - for loving me, for your unconditional friendship, for helping me grow. You have been here whenever I needed you for nearly half a century, and I hope they leave you untouched for the rest of my years.



As always, I will leave you feeling better than when I came, and on this day, I was feeling pretty good on arrival, which is pretty much the way things are these days. Maybe that is the cumulative effect you have had on me. But I shouldn't have stayed away so long. Lovers share good things, and I have been remiss.



See you soon, and thanks for being here.