The Clover-less path

Today marks 7 months and 5 days since Clover has been gone. It also marks the first time I went back to my favorite woods to take photos since July when she started in CHF and ultimately passed.

I was excited that I was motivated to go take pictures today. I actually WANTED to go. I charged my camera and away I went, almost forgetting the easiest way to get to the woods.  Once I arrived and got out of the Jeep, I was hopeful as I could hear the birds chirping away signaling the oncoming dusk. I noted that I remembered the sounds of the birds, but couldn't remember all of the birds I heard. I was also just surprised there were any birds as it was pretty chilly out yesterday afternoon, but I was hopeful I would see something along the way. I was really hopeful my friend Hootie, the owl, would be around.  I started on the path into the woods painfully aware of the crunching leaves under my feet from the ice and remaining snow. If there are animals around, they'll be high tailing it out as soon as they hear the crunch. Luckily a little way up the path there were no leaves, just fallen pine needles from the trees winter slumber. I quietly spoke to Clover and ask her to let Hootie know I was in the woods in the hopes he would make an appearance.
As I approached the marsh I stood and listened. The sounds of the birds were growing more faint but I was still hopeful. You never know what can appear in the woods.
As I got to the top of the hill where I usually found the owl I stood there listening and watching. It was so quiet the ringing in my ears was loud. I was keenly aware of the cold wind biting on my cheeks and the feel of the camera in my hand just waiting to click the shutter upon seeing a bird. Suddenly I was also aware of a very different feeling than I have ever gotten in the woods. Profound sadness. My heart was aching for Clover. It was such a conflict of emotion. Here I was in the woods, watching for my owl, listening for the sounds of the birds, and hearing the depth of the quiet in the nature I loved so much and at the same time, in the place I always feel peace, I felt heartbreak. Maybe because it was the first time I was in the woods and no one else was around and I could be even more in touch with who I am and what I feel. That's what being in nature will do. It brings you closer to whatever you are experiencing because there is nothing to impeded the process from the outside world. At any rate, I stood there simultaneously watching and waiting, and feeling the heartbreak as if it were ice giving way. I wasn't sad I was in nature taking pictures, I was actually proud of myself for being there especially when the sadness kicked in. I was sad that when I went home, Clover wouldn't be there. Yes, Harmony and Bella would be there and I am ever so grateful for that, but I want Clover there too. As the emotions swirled around like a cinnamon roll (what's a story without an analogy to food?) I started writing this blog in my head. I was looking in every direction still for the owl, or at this point, any bird, and dictating my words in my head as I watched. I turned and looked down hill at the path I had just walked. The Clover-less path. My path without Clover. I snapped a photo. It was a reminder to me that we all walk a path and there comes a time where we come to crossroads where people or animals we love have to leave and we have to continue on the journey without them. Just another reminder the life is ever changing and we just have to keep walking.

After about a half hour, I decided it was time to go home. It was clear there weren't too many animals out in this cold and it was getting to be dusk. I did see a few Mallards, Nuthatches, Downey Woodpeckers, and lots and lots of sparrows so I snapped a few photos. No owl this time. It wasn't meant to be. Sometimes I wonder if Hootie was in my life at that time for a reason. I saw him every single day for a month. Since then, I haven't even heard him. I'm just hopeful he's okay.
I reached the entrance of the woods and walked back into the world of parking lots and buildings, but still surrounded by the woods. Sometimes I get lucky and see some cool birds in the thicket so I walked around the perimeter watching for a glimpse of something cool.
A couple of minutes out of the woods, I realized that searing sorrow wasn't there anymore, but neither was the peace of nature. I'm sure that's how it usually works, but I've never been so aware of it before. Well, it was time to go home anyway. As I went to walk back to the Jeep, I looked across the marsh to the slumbering winter trees. I noticed that on one small batch of trees, there was the glow of the sunlight, but there was no sunlight noted anywhere else. No rays of sun, no other patches of sun, nothing. Just this glow on a small batch of trees. For a moment I took comfort that this was Clover saying "Hi Mom, I'm still here. So glad you came out to take pictures again". For a moment my rational brain was saying the sun has to be somewhere, but by now everyone knows I believe in signs so I'll choose to believe Clover wanted to say hi on my first trip back to the woods to take photos since she passed. No matter what, the conflict of my love of nature and the sadness of her loss was one of the moments where you have to reconcile that life goes on no matter what and that you can still have joy and love while you experience sadness and loss. And I guess more importantly, I stepped out into my favorite spot to take photos again, a joy that was lost on August 1, 2020 and I have had a hard time rekindling. At least I know next time I go out it may be a mix of emotions again, or maybe the peace and beauty of nature will remind me of the peace and beauty of Clover. And while my path may physically not have Clover on it anymore, she will always be walking with me, by my side, in my heart. I love you Clover Tinkham. Thanks for being in the woods with me today.