I'’m not hiding here in the Wilderness. I’m not pretending. I’m not escaping. Instead, I’m photosynthesizing, sprouting leaves, and readying to bloom.
Western Tanagers answer all questions in whistled refrains from high in the canopy. Sunlight filters troubles away. Pepper curls next to me in a furry black Labrador bundle. I’ve put down my notebook and pen.
I am daydreaming of dwelling in a world that is bliss, that is Wilderness. Badger Creek sends her news flowing pell-mell in the snow-melt waters down through a wild valley of ancient forests.
An American Dipper picks up the headlines and riffs a spring tune. Across from me, Pine Creek tumbles words so fast I can only taste joy.
Delicate Calypso orchids crown polished mats of twinflower leaves. White oak, beaked hazelnut, and golden chinquapin mingle with centuries-old ponderosas, redcedar, western larch, western white pine, Douglas-fir, grand fir, and western hemlock. Vanilla leaf plants sent up floral offerings like sweet incense.
Always, Badger Creek flows strong, sure, and reminds me that Wilderness protects the origins of freshwater. Wilderness is Life.
On that first day when I walked past the engraved wooden Wilderness entry sign close to the trailhead, I could feel my tightened brow easing. Solomon’s Seal wildflowers bloomed in white tall plumes brushing my hiking skirt. Farther along, a purple lupine blossom cupped a jeweled beetle. Raindrops pooled on leaves.
Woodpeckers have chiseled and carved homes in snags standing at many heights in life-giving decay. High in tree crowns, Hermit Warblers brighten the crisp air in piccolo tunes… happy, happy, happy….join me,
Last year in August, I backpacked Badger with Chandra LeGue of Oregon Wild in the time of ripe huckleberries. I wrote in celebration of Oregon Wild’s 50th anniversary, the 60th anniversary of the Wilderness Act, and the 40th anniversary of the Oregon Wilderness Act of 1984 (that protected Badger Creek’s ancient forests).
Then, I lived in the possibility that we Americans just might elect the first woman president, protect every old-growth forest remaining, act on climate change before the tipping point, and save every last wild river, every last roadless area, every last big tree, every species, every habitat, every…everything …dear.
So much has gone terribly wrong since November’s election, but I am far from giving up. I take heart from all the champions who overcame the impossible to protect wild places as Wilderness in outrageously difficult times.
For all my companions rallying in these dark times, I urge you to go into the wilds wherever you live and soak up this balm. Know we will continue to speak up for all we care deeply about.
We are interlaced roots in the mycelial network tapping messages, giving to those in need, and receiving nurturing, too.
We are grassroots. We are everywhere. We work in neighborhoods and communities. We protest, rally, and meet new allies. We know we have that secret power of love.
The creek is bearing the news….Wilderness forever…wilderness forever.. . cherish this…cherish this.
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Absolutely beautiful. Thank you. I just spent two weeks in the forests of Maine, New Hampshire and Vermont. What you said put beautifully into words what I felt and learned there. The continuous thread of rushing water, the whispers of wildness being wild, and the secret power of love 💖