A place of great beauty

Written on 12/26
1:20 pm

I’m looking out over a small lake in a great river swamp, clear woods open and austere in winter on this day after Christmas. The air is cold, but not too cold. Brisk, invigorating. Leaves sit still and unmoving on the surface of the brown water. I see the bare crowns of tall and ancient bald cypress trees. There is more water in the swamp than usual form heavier rains in the upstate. The sounds of hawks reverberate over the stillness, but there are enough oak trees with leaves on them to create a pleasant sound as the wind stirs them from their winter slumber.

This swamp is as remote and close to wilderness as I am able to find in my circumscribed little world of Charleston and the Lowcountry. It is on days like this that I am quite content to be alone with my thoughts, listening to the sounds of Nature. Every now and then I hear the hawks, and they comfort me with their presence. Free and wild forever, they soar over the canopy of trees, while I am a free man here in this majestic place for just a short while this afternoon.

I love to breathe the air on these mid-winter days because it seems so clean and fresh, so much a part of the land through which this swamp flows.

There are three people about 50 yards form me, talking to each other, occasionally loud, yelling about something or other, laughing. It is a bit distracting, but they are seated on a bench at the edge of the lake, and don’t appear to want to go anywhere soon. I guess I’ll have to rouse myself from the spot where I’m sitting and writing this entry.

I so enjoy this act of writing “on the scene,” as it were, outdoors in the midst of what I am observing so consciously. Time is very real here, and immediate. I have nothing else to do but be aware of my surroundings. My thoughts and feelings are subdued for a while by this quiet and self-contained process of observation, of being attuned to the wind and the birds and the faint sunlight which is not spreading too much warmth at the moment.

In fact, it feels kind of chilly all of a sudden. My inactivity, this rest from my walk along the trail, is causing me to notice that, yes, it truly is winter. Here in South Carolina’s coastal plain, it’s often easy to overlook that fact and pretend that we live in an endless, mellow Autumn.

Leaves still clinging to trees remind me of late Autumn, but my cold ears and the cold surface of my jacket tell me otherwise. Still, as I wrote recently, I like to think of myself as capable of being at home in any season of the year. It’s just a little more difficult in winter because this is the season when the aloneness I savor and cherish can easily be transformed into loneliness — a deep, bottom-of-the-well pit of loneliness. And it is, frankly, scary.

The cold on a late afternoon in winter, when the sun is low in the sky anyway, can bring on the most melancholy feelings quite suddenly. I feel a bit of it now.

The other visitors, near me just moments ago, have wandered on down the trail. I have the lake and the birds to myself. It’s nice to hear no other human voices, but the cold is seeping in, and I must be moving on down the path myself, depsite the cheery protestations of a bird whose call I cannot identify. He seems to want me to stay and keep him company a bit longer. My invisible friend.

Ah…these feelings I know… xxoo,

Willo2

I think winter in the south has finally arrived here too. Although I crave the chill of it, and the respite from the heat, I always forget the melancholy that it brings. My fire stays brightly lit and candles twinkle keeping that feeling at bay. Hope your walk ended with re-entering your cozy warm home and a good nights rest.

I love hitting the city with a pen and notepad. Capturing everything as it’s happening, while it’s still fresh. I should do it more often. Perhaps one of these days I’ll have the time again.

I LOVE visualizing as you share yr meditation.I got to travel into your nature spot this morning.Invisible,yet visible.A fine line ‘tween painful loneliness & tranquil aloneness. A lucky circumstance to get live in the climate in which one is most at home. Here in North country I’m most alive in the heart of a snowy winter~Jan, Feb. Summer, especially when very hot & still is harder for me. [

I’m curious, do you bring a laptop with you, or use pen & paper?

Thanks for sharing this peaceful experience. Keep on having and sharing these precious moments of connection with nature.

It’s always nice to observe the nature true your eyes, Oswego. Alone or lonely.. I guess you can decide to do something abt it. I know there are many out there who would want to be your friend. Take care

RYN: *sigh* It would be fantastic to move to such a wonderful, inspiring city with such an equally wonderful and inspiring girl. But. She’s a Yank 🙂 and has this snarling, biting contempt for all things Southern. She’d sooner chew off her arms than move to Nawlins. *laughs* Ah well. I love her anyway. Take care of you.

Looking up

December 27, 2001

Just read your entry today and felt the air,enjoyed the feeling of sharing of the day. You portray the aliveness with your word pictures vividly. I appreciate your writings . My goodness, but you have lit up my life, and I say, ‘that’s a good thing’.

you have once again captured the moment, as well as illustrated the day very accurately. eventhough i was with my company on the day after christmas, you took me along your stay that overlooked the lake with the birds, and the noisy people. thank you. i hope you had a wonderful christmas day, and that santa got you everything you wanted. lol. talk to you soon i hope. southvirgo max

Yes Oswego, it’s on a late afternoon in winter that we sometimes get these melacholic feelings! At times a little difficult, but reading such a wonderful entry can make a low sun shine much brighter! Of course,… your cheery little friend there would have liked you to stay a bit longer! ~~smiles~~

so serene. yes, i like to write in different environments too. i find it inspirational. or distracting, depending on where and where

Everyone else has taken the words I’m trying to find. You really *sketch* with your words, on site, eh? Amazing. I think I especially like that you’ve caught that emotional transition as it mirrors the physical change in you, too. You’re quite the observer, even of self. (And as can happen in others.) It seems hard that you’d be alone, but reading OD, I find nothing surprises me anymore. [April F

PS~ryn: thanks for your wonderful notes! I, too, wish to support OD,& it’s not that I object to the fee, so much. It’s not out of line, probably, it’s simply that separation factor which I’m so disturbed by. Of course, my technical knowledge of what they can & can’t do is about the size of a thimble, so my suggestions could be thrown to the winds, for all I know…Anyway, I’m just railing in vain.

Bramble

Your writing ‘on the scene’ is the same as when I sketch. One has to observe every detail of the surroundings to portray it in words or drawing. It is a wondrous thing to feel the place where someone else has been and see it through their eyes. That is what you do for us.

As you know, Oswego, I have already read this but reading it a second time makes it even more pleasurable! You write so beautifully! Thank you as always for being here and sharing of yourself with us.

Ahhh…cypress trees…I’ve not thought of cypress in awhile. Thank you for sharing.

Moments like that are what writers dream for. 🙂 Truly awesome. I’ve missed reading your writings these past few months while I was gone, but it’s nice to see you’ve kept at it. Take care! Keep writing! Expect the unexpected,

When I answer my notes, I always keep your diary for the end, for a moment of grace and beauty, one moment of peace and thoughts. In comparison with you, everybody seems to me agitated for insignificances. I, the first one! Are you a misanthrope?