Meadow Moods

“Let children walk with Nature, let them see the beautiful blendings and communions of death and life, their joyous inseparable unity, as taught in woods and meadows, plains and mountains and streams of our blessed star, and they will learn that death is stingless indeed, and as beautiful as life.“

John Muir

Since moving to Western North Carolina, I walk the meadows near my home daily. 

It was late summer when I first discovered the path that winds through the meadow and along the French Broad River. August brought rainstorms, low-lying fog, and glorious sunsets to the landscape. 

Asters, goldenrod, and butterflies proliferated in September. And in October and November, weeds dried and colors muted.

In celebration of the winter solstice last month, I took my young grandsons to the meadow after dark. Bundled against the icy cold, we listened to the night sounds, the travels of “dark feet and dark wings,” as Wendell Berry says.

And now, frost and crunchy snow cover the ground. I pull on tall winter boots and keep walking, knowing that the meadow promises new life and fresh wonders with the coming of spring.

“The world of life, of spontaneity, the world of dawn and sunset and starlight, the world of soil and sunshine, of meadow and woodland, … of the river and its wellbeing—all of this [is] the integral community in which we live.” 

Thomas Berry