Progymnasmata

School is about to begin again, having ended a couple weeks ago. During this winter break I am in the "pause" in the middle of my working year. It is this cycle of beginning, ending, resting, then beginning again that I find most appealing about teaching. And about being a student too, for that matter. Life's edges are thrilling.

This winter break I found more time to ski the cross-country trails in my little corner of the northern world.

There is something beautiful about cross-country skiing. I ski in the classic style, which means that I ski along a groomed track, very similar to a train track, that lopes through the hills and woodlands for miles and miles.

The winter woods are full of quiet stillness. The air is slow and stiff with resolve. And I feel that there is health in every breath -- more so than summer or any other season.

. . . . .

But back to the track. I went out alone the other day. There was no one else on the trail. No cars in the parking area. No one. Just me and my shadow:



But the ski trail is fine blend of solitude and community. Earlier this day, some underpaid worker took up his snowmobile and grooming machine and etched my way into the woods.

My silent woods, my swishing exertion, my regulated breath: they owe this hour of escape to a community of others who help create a track, a pathway, for me to glide upon, alone this mid-afternoon.

. . . .

But skiing through the woods is often a time for me to see my own path in life. It's an activity that lets me see my means to progress in this world. And with any luck, I can see a few paces in front of me too:



There are some who say that we should "never look back." But I ignore them. I look back. Often. Sometimes in regret. Sometimes in delight. And sometimes for perspective. Like rivers, our own meandering way is a different course coming and going.

And so I look back every now and then, to see if I missed anything along the way:



When I do, sometimes the trail looks so different, so foreign, that even though I just traveled it, it takes on a new character and slope.

. . . .

A final note: I take a small "memo" pad and pencil with me on my ski trips to make note of any animals or birds that I see. The trip from which these images were taken had these written observations:

"Spotted
One (1) piliated woodpecker drilling the hell out of a spruce tree. Wood chips everywhere. The spruce looks healthy, but it's probably filled with carpenter ants or bark beetles.

"10-20 chickadees. The toughest creatures in the woods. They offered a few "phee bees" songs, but most were silently inspecting the hemlock and spruce cones."