burn and yet I freeze

I find no peace, and have no arms for war,
and fear and hope, and burn and yet I freeze,
and fly to heaven, lying on earth's floor,
and nothing hold, and all the world I seize.

A cold chill burned my nose as I poked my head out of my down sleeping bag. I shimmy into my boots so that I can join Wayne at the fire for coffee and eggs. Wayne and I had returned to one of our favorite camping spots on OHT, a lovely stone fire ring that is nestled in a valley cove. A gentle murmuring rose from the stream that twisted in the bank below; the water was running high amidst huge moss covered boulder. The area, rich with Arkansas sandstone boulders, was the locus of our most recent adventure. We had passed through the area on a recent backpacking trip, and Wayne was fascinated by the wealth of stone, and ever since we left the trail, had his heart set on developing the area for climbing. It was exciting to see Wayne have the opportunity to pursue his passion. His gumption led him to run through the woods from rock to rock, taking pictures and feeling the stone.He always returned with a sparkle in his eye as he described the climbs that he was planning to set. The frigid air and the rocks had a nasty bite to them so I took advantage of the campfire or went on my own hikes. When I unscrewed my thermos, I found that the remnants of last night’s chai were frozen to the bottom. The tea bag stuck out like a sinking ship; it's comical little flag dangling when I tried to shake out the ice. To free my mug for a cup of joe, I held my mug over the fire to melt out the tea drop by drop. Shhzzchhhss While I waited, I amused myself by watching my breath crystallize into a haze that intermingled and then disappeared into the smoke of the campfire. After breakfast we hiked into the boulder field, and Wayne worked on some more problems. I was a warm in my down jacket and coccoon of underarmor, except for my toes which burned with the cold. With each step I could feel my heat energy flowing from my feet into the frozen earth. I made a mental note on Wayne's suggestion of knitting a pair of hardy wool socks. The boulders werebeautiful, moss covered giants, and under a climber's eye, their cracks and lines whet a desire for discovery. For me, this would be during a warmer weekend. I had long ago decided not to attempt climbing when the weather was below freezing. When your hands crimp on cold stone it feels like they are being welded to the rock by blue fire, and you are too frozen to pull the next move. Leaving climbing to a sunnier day, I tended the fire. I became rather cross when Wayne, dangling from a harness on a boulder above me, knocked a pile of debris into the jet boil - fresh oatmeal, which remained delicious despite its durt-and-twig seasoning. The high position of the sun and our empty food bag let us know that it was time to leave the mountains for another day in the near future. I enjoy hiking alone and continued ahead when Wayne paused to rest. Halfway up the trail I saw powdery flakes trickling through the forest of pine boughs. Snow! The woods transformed

as I hiked through the mountain’s saddle and then up the hill. The leaves became speckled with white and soon the whole ground was covered with snow. I love walking in the woods, and the uphill burn combined with the cool nips of the snow flakes was invigorating.

Unfortunately the snow that made the mountains breathtaking did ugly things to the roads. When we made it back to the car, we found that the roads were covered and we crawled along the dangerous curves and hills of the mountain. Our stomachs tensed in fear, but we blamed it on the post hiking munchies. Our food had run out around noon, and our stomachs had been making sound effects for the stormy skies for a few hours. To keep our minds off the danger, we talked about the kashi cookies, coffee, and bagels that we wanted to devour when we reached Russellville. We had left two bananas in the car for our return, but they had frozen. Delicious, but icy. Wayne’s mouth was numb, leading him to accidentally crunched down on a few bites of the peel. Up ahead we saw head lights. My heart jolted as I saw them start to spin, every muscle tensed as I saw them go off the road, and I was scared that they were out of control. Wayne put on his breaks at a dangerous speed for the slick rode. We slid by and I saw that it was a four wheeler. Hmppphh. I looked back in the rear view mirror and saw yellow lights swirling and twirling in a series of 360s. I wholeheartedly agree with making your own fun in Arkansas, but he chose a dangerous curve at which to do so. Our own journey was not yet free of danger. The highway was slick with ice, and even driving at a slow pace, we fishtailed, slithering between the two lanes. Then when we got off the exit ramp at Conway, we hit a patch of ice and the Aztec whirled in a circle. When we parked the car, I was thankful for our safety. I waltzed in the glittering snow; on these adventures I burn and freeze. I can not control events or always guarantee my safety, yet the fearful encounters help me to appreciate the life that I have.

I see so much of the sublime in the earth. My relief from arriving safely was a buffer when I saw that my plants were buried under the snow. I brought them inside, and hope that I can help them recover. But if not, the days to come will be filled with the peace of planting and the age-old power of growth.