The Call To Adventure
“We live in a wonderful world that is full of beauty, charm and adventure.
There is no end to the adventures that we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open.”*
Do you ever wonder why you do the things you do? Do you ever find yourself questioning your path? If so, what causes that self-doubt? For me, this week, it was a comment made by a philosophy professor in Arts and Letters, to the effect that the outings I call adventures are really ordinary, mundane activities — a walk in the woods is just that, a walk, and my “embroidery” of those events is merely aggrandisement. Ouch! Many in the group publicly sprang to my defense, more reached out personally, all trying to reassure me that this was not the prevailing opinion. Still…
Is that what I’m doing?
It is true that my outings are tame by true adventurers’ standards — with none of the dangerous and exciting exploits of storybooks, those that generally involve unforeseen risks and hazards, conquered and survived by the hero. I’m no hero.
Last year on my birthday (the dreaded #65), I remember thinking to myself, so begins the adventure of old age. My physical and creative adventures are now more of the metaphysical variety (and I don’t mean supernatural). They’re about me observing and studying the woodland and wetland ecosystems, trying to better understand the lives they support. It’s a bit of an esoteric quest because so many elements of each ecological unit are both imperceptible to the eye and abstruse to me. But I persevere because, as Prime Minister Nehru wrote — We live in a wonderful world that is full of beauty, charm and adventure.
My life is a bit of a ‘create your own adventure’ situation where even the narrowest of paths is an invitation to explore. Even though most of my adventures lie within a 30km radius of my home, they are nonetheless exciting, inspiring, challenging and rewarding to me. I find myself not merely being fine with, but thoroughly enjoying my small adventures.
There is no end to the adventures that we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open.
I’ve also been told that we Sagittarians are ‘rascally adventurers’ so from this rascal, another small adventure:
Destination
Passport
Goals:
Take note of the trees.
Improve species recognition.
Stay dry.
Have fun.
Southern Ontario’s Carolinian Forest is one of the natural areas that falls within the immense Eastern Deciduous Forest ecosystem. Records indicate that, not so long ago, 80% of the Carolinian region was dominated by old-growth Maple, Ash, Elm and Oak. Currently, old-growth in our Carolinian Forest is estimated at a meagre 10%.
Walking through the park yesterday I came across a stand of maples and, whilst I was examining them, a park employee wandered over and offered to answer my questions. He pointed out three Maples that are almost certainly old-growth. When I admitted that I had no idea how to identify those that are old-growth he happily told me about the celery analogy: Very old trees have tall thick trunks, very few branches, and those are all high up in the canopy - just like a stalk of celery!
Armed with this amazing tidbit, I continued wandering the trail and found numerous huge, old Oaks and too many mature Tulip Trees to count — but none passed the old-growth celery test. Then I came across a very tall Sycamore or Planetree, if you prefer (Platanus occidentalis) that did pass the celery test, except that the trunk was not huge. Enter once again my new park buddy (I’ve not asked permission to use his name yet) who confirmed that this American Sycamore was, indeed, old-growth. Huzzah! And just like that, with one very small success, I abandoned tree study and set out to enjoy my hike in the park. Fickle, non?
Today, at Wheatley, a small adventure, a hike and a goal of capturing — with my lens and my memory — a panoptic image of this pretty park before it closes for the winter. A remembrance I can recall by the fire, cuppa to hand, laying plans for some mischievous springtime escapades.
On days like these, my curiosity feels infinite which would seem to imply it will remain forever unquenched; each curve in the path prompting another question, another thought and, with a bit of luck, a bit more insight. As the rain gently fell and the breeze teased my hair, I finished my trail with glee and dashed back to the car to dry both me and my gear.
“What I remember is a woman who was fully alive, who enjoyed new tastes, sounds, adventures.”** Isn’t that an utterly brilliant epitaph? When I die, I’d love to be remembered as a woman who always enjoyed new adventures.
’Til next time, y’all…
*Jawaharlal Nehru, first Prime Minister of India and father of Indira Gandhi.
**Madeleine L’Engle from The Crosswicks Journals