Our good friends Stacey and Brian live in a part of Vermont near the Taconic Mountains Ramble State Park. Their house is nestled between hills that blaze orange and red in the fall, as I imagine they’re doing right now as I write this from my 20th floor apartment in China. The breeze in our city here is finally starting to feel cooler and the natives are putting on their coats and shutting windows. My mind darts back to the many autumns I spent in New England.
Taconic and iconic
Last summer Kim and I got to hike around in the Japanese garden with Stacey, her son Owen and her daughter Mia. A few years ago, before I knew this was a state park, Stacey and I hiked there by walking up a weedy path through a field in “some guy’s” front yard. This “guy” had built a beautiful Japanese garden on his property purely out of a passion and appreciation for nature and its beauty. Last summer I learned more about the guy and his generosity. His name was Kit and he created this wonderful place so complete strangers could visit his home and enjoy nature.
We walked down a small dirt path to the first area of the garden and came to a beautifully manicured pond. The pond lay still and calm at the base of large boulders and rocks. Kit had constructed ladders for visitors to climb these rocks. There were also stone steps to take as an alternative to the ladders near some boulders.
Wandering around, we paused at the water’s edge to look for creatures. We saw minnows and tadpoles, frogs and bees.
We walked around the pond, soaking in the sunshine and the mostly quiet air (we were hiking with a toddler and a baby, after all.) Dragonflies flirted about our heads and frogs floated lazily in the pond as we walked about.
We spoke a little to each other but spent most of our time in silent smiles, just enjoying the Zen of the area. One constant sound was the dripping of water into the pond from above. I stood under it, hoping for a fun picture of the water as it fell. I promise that that is a rock.
Let’s go up here…
We followed a trail up between some boulders and ended up on a rocky cliff. The cliff had just enough of a tilt that it made me lean back and instinctively grab Owen’s hand and not let go the entire time we were up there. The view of the valley running through this part of the Taconic Mountains was beautiful, peaceful and calming, even with a toddler in my hands who wanted to ignore the laws of gravity and venture to the edge of the cliff.
We came down off the cliff and hiked back down to our car along a different trail. We found this fairy house built out of twigs and formed at the base of a tree. I peered inside briefly until I imagined an angry squirrel inside who was about to fly out and attach to my face. My imagination runs a little wild sometimes. It’s what keeps me alive. Or scared of everything.
We hiked for a short time, maybe an hour or two. We still had time to enjoy this beautiful area. Knowing how much Kit loved this land; measures he took to cultivate it and ensure its preservation made me pause before we headed back to Stacey’s house. I sent up a spiritual thank you to Kit’s memory and legacy for leaving these trails for us to explore.