Yesterday after work, I realized it was still day light. I walked out to the river behind my house and saw a war zone of dirty broken up ice mixed with snow and tree limbs and plants. It was as if bombs came and destoryed the peaceful layer of ice that covered my river from November on. March 17th, the day the ice fell as told in the stories of our elders. It was the day the kids weren’t able to play on the ice covered river anymore. I posted a photo of this madness to Facebook. It wasn’t beautiful or artistic, just a mess of fallen soldiers. I was ashamed to share it on Flickr.
Today, I returned to the river. To my surprise, the 200 yard river front that is mine is flowing rapidly and high nearly flowing over the bank that is my back yard. Downstream, i see the neighbor’s property which is shrouded in trees and the wreckage has moved and now, it’s his problem. The fallen soldiers have thinned and shifted. My river flows again.
I haven’t been out to the gazebo in a while. I believe I made a fire out here toward the end of November wearing two layers of clothing and boots and tried reading an Ayn Rand book until my fingers couldn’t move anymore. That’s the thing about touch screens; you can’t use them with gloves.
Today, it’s the first time I’ve sat out here with a single jacket and tennis shoes in 6 months. I just paused to grab my camera because the flowing river is so beautiful and a floating piece of ice fell into the water beside me getting stuck on another piece of ice that has yet to break free. The other little soldiers are bumping into it nudging it along. For 10 minutes, it has yet to move but I’ll stay here until it does. How many thousands of gallons must pass a lone block of ice before it surrenders to join the others an acre away?
In a week, I’ll start to see my yard again covered in inch thick water and it will evaporate or be absorbed into the soil…and that’s when green grass appears. Mid-April will be here in three weeks and my yard will show signs of green. Between the months of May and August, the temperature will rise from an average of 50 degrees to highs in the 80s but dropping again to a mild 60 degree September which also happens to be the one year anniversary of my life in New Hampshire.
It feels like I was in San Francisco for many years. I was there for an eternity and I smiled as much as I sobbed. Vicious highs were confronted with never-ending lows. My emotions weren’t seasonal because there were no seasons because, in San Francisco, seasons don’t really exist. It’s either foggy or it’s not.
My time in San Francisco spanned from May of 2008 to August of 2010. Why do I feel like it was longer than 2 years? It’s as if I arrived in San Francisco at the age of 21 and left in my mid-30s. I don’t blame the city but I’m a sucker for the thrill ride and the never-ending booze and tech scene, the scene that I remembered fondly last week in Texas while at SXSW. Last week, something was different. I dipped my toes in the scene but knew when it was time to stop and head back to the North.
My time in New Hampshire is passing quickly. I arrived on a cool day in August and I write this from a cool day in mid-March. Yet, life is slower here and I don’t mind. Life does go by too fast so what’s the fascination with speeding through it? This cabin in the woods facing a river has forced me to debate city life again. I would do it but with more restraint and I’d have to be in the suburbs. I’d have to be away from the hustle that comes with the bus and the people and the crowds.
Don’t misunderstand. I’m not 24 and burned out. I am 24 and already appreciating the seasons, the noise of the water and that you can be effective, successful and live a rewarding life even when 20 miles away from civilization. It is possible but it takes guts.
The ice sheet has just broken free from his stronghold alongside my gazebo. He has left to join the other fallen brothers but will return next year. The season of rebirth is beginning and I’m thrilled to be a part of it.
Here’s to green grass, sunshine and another year at the best job I’ve ever had. It’s a season of thanks. Join me. :)