Legal Eagle: I Looked Up

Jan 9th is my Legal Day. It was on this day five years ago that I legally changed my name to match my authentic self. Not surprisingly, this day is one of deep reflection for me. And if you know me, you know that at such times I like to retreat to the solace of The Land. I planned to go there for this day but impulsively decided to head there the day before and spend the night.

I had not made the trek since before the holidays and the accumulated snow on the 350 foot driveway was going to be a challenge. I had my car laden with lots of books that I'm moving to the Earth Home and I thought perhaps I could power the car up the hill. Nope. I got stuck and tried several times to guide my car to the top. In the end, I shoveled the entire driveway to make my ascent. It took two hours of work but I had the time, it was good exercise and I have to admit, I enjoyed it.

In the garage is a fairly new, large snowblower. Instead, I opted to complete the task by hand. Leaning against the wall in the garage was Dad's snow shovel. Actually, it is more of a plow. The heavy red blade was perfect for the task before me. As I methodically pushed row after row of snow off the driveway I thought about this shovel. Dad must have had it for fifty years. There are family photos with this shovel in hand as he was no stranger to the outdoors in the winter. Building igloos was something he'd do every season, a tradition I carried on with my own children. The quality shovel, complete with memories and meaning, made the task a spiritual one. And come to think of it, Dad often had a shovel of some kind in his hand, digging in the dirt or playing in the snow.

As I was outside working, a strong south wind kept blowing. Along the road, many pickup trucks and a few Amish buggies went past. I waved to the Amish and at one point, one man in a wagon stopped at the bottom of the driveway, standing on his open-air wagon being pulled by two very solid workhorses. I greeted him and was thinking perhaps he was going to offer to help. Our Amish neighbors sometimes plow out the driveway with their horses. In my mind, I had already decided that I wanted to complete this task on my own and I'd decline if he offered. Good thing! He explained that he was just pausing to give his horses a rest before they continued on the road, up the hill toward the highway.

While I was working, two red-tailed hawks screeched and circled over head. That sound pierces the air and scares the daylights out of my chickens. But at this time, it was lovely to hear and see them high above me. Of course, I was hoping that my hat didn't look like a rabbit! As I paused, supported by the shovel, I marveled at their grace and power. Slowly they circled away and I got back to work. A while later, I felt like I was being watched. This time, when I looked up, I saw a bald eagle, much larger than the hawks. It came from over the woods and the Remembrance Path. It was directly above me at one point and slowly headed west and then south. I was lamenting not having my camera but then appreciated just be able to enjoy the beauty. After a bit, I remembered my camera was still in the car that was next to me, stuck in the snow. By the time I got it out, the eagle was about to disappear over the horizon. I'm not sure what prompted me to look up just when the eagle was over my head. Somehow, I had become aware. I was glad I looked up. (Later, upon reflecting, I was reminded of the current Netflix movie, Don't Look Up. If you haven't yet

watched it, I encourage you to do so. I will refrain from saying anything about it at this point and I suspect that will be the subject of a future blog.) Once I had a roaring fire in the wood stove, I walked in the woods and took note of the variety of tracks that crossed paths in the snow. These tracks and the birds reminded me that while I am moving to the quiet of the woods, I will not be alone. I'll have to adjust to this new community. I have much to observe, witness and listen to.

As a fan of happy endings, I am proud to reveal that my shoveling was successful and my little car made it up the hill,

thanks to time,hard work, and Dad's trusty shovel.