Wayne and I left his house early this morning, driving past a herd of elk in Boxley Valley. Slowly the mountains, full of misty clouds this morning, gave way to the rambling city of Clarksville, an interstate clattered with billboards. Finally, we clanked through Little Rock traffic to arrive at the G Street place, a farm that seemed empty without chickens rolling in the compost (Big Wayne's chickens are the joy of the garden, they role in dry dirt like a pig in mud in order to get rid of the bugs in their feathers. The afternoon was rushed- I sent Wayne off to work with a tofu scramble for dinner, petted Leon for a bit, dropped by the climbing gym. Now, I am back at the dorm room trying not to think about the busy semester ahead, and instead remembering the clouds that . The last week of Christmas break, Wayne and I spent on "holiday" in Arkansas.
Our home base was his house. Our intent was to enjoy the Arkansas' country, to sink our roots in deeper into the loamy soils of creak beds and river valleys, and scramble up sandstone bluffs to watch the eagle's soaring still higher in the sky. The looming cloudscape of a demanding semester made our time together and our time outdoors a gift. We floated the Buffalo, helped Big Wayne plant a raspberry patch and plan for the spring garden, identified Mock Oyster mushrooms, explored a cave, played Settlers of Cataan with the Hartlerode family, and cuddled with Stella's new puppies. Of course, we climbed at the Ranch, this time with our friends Joe and Barret. Both Wayne and I reached a new level in our climbing. Wayne ascended his first v11 and I heel-hooked my way through the Swiss Chard Traverse, my first v4 outside. You can read about those exciting moments at Wayne's new blog, Backcountry Fringe.
On our last night, the two of us backpacked with Big Wayne in search of a cave that Wayne had found seven years ago, but failing to find it before sunset, we built up a fire and made camp on a bouldery ridge. The three of us slept in a circle around the campfire. About every thirty minutes the firee cooled down and one of us would wake up to feed it a new stack of branches. Waking up several times, the night was slowly traced by the bright round moon inching over the hills to slowly and hazily cross the gap between the opposite ridge. A long and silvery cold night. A branch fell and caught Wayne's thermarest pad and then his sleeping bag on fire. It burnt through the bag, and his sweatshirt before he put it out, only after waving the pad dangerously close to my face. The three of us chuckled nervously, and turned back to sleep. I lay on my back and watched the ember quivering of the beech leaves that reflected the fires glow against the grey silver sky.
How strange it is to be here in the city again, and alone tonight in the dorm room- a place that now feels as temporary as a campsite. The last semester....I must admit that I am a little nervous about finishing this section of my life. And the summer, next fall...are seasons that belong to a new climate and are unknown despite the piles of ideas that Wayne and I have raked up. When we pulled out of his driveway this morning, Big Wayne gave me a big hug. As he shut the door to the aztec, he said, "Don't be pulled too hard in too many directions at once." Right now I need to channel my energy, day by day, into my work for this last semester, and slowly put one foot in front of the other to explore a new space.
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