I generally don't feel exuberantly creative in my old age, but I still enjoy daily fall hikes where I live on the edge of the Kawartha Lakes region of Ontario. Following is from my 2008 book, ZenRiver: Poems & Haibun. Hidden Brook Press, 2008
Yesterday I felt it was time to revisit our trails. Sorrow Falls is the shortest drive, and it is one of the prettiest and most encouraging of reminiscing for me. It was on the Sorrow Falls trail and at Callaghan’s Rapids Conservation Area that I experienced my return to Buddhism and spirituality four years ago.
It was an overcast day, but within the first one hundred yards a great blue heron rose and flew parallel with our path - a nice omen. The walk continued uneventfully but enjoyably. I inspected my shaman carving on the top railing of the wooden bridge. I had done this carving during a rest stop on one of Chase and my ten mile winter hikes last year.
As always, the trail’s natural calm transmitted to Chase and me, although on the long walk through the cedar forest Chase decided to go on a solo exploration to sniff among the mossy fallen stumps.
redheaded woodpecker
stirs shaman instincts
while Chase explores
After half an hour we reached Sorrow Falls. Beavers had completely cut off the creek’s flow, and the ledges of the falls were exposed. Even the basin was dry. We clambered to the tiny island above the falls, where I’d previously hung prayer flags, and then began walking upstream on the dry creek bed.
dry leaves
fill the basin below
moss-covered falls
This is where I found my fish suiseki several years ago. The fallen leaves hid any potential finds, though, and it wasn’t until we were a few yards from the new beaver dam that I found a gorgeous multi-coloured beauty. I lugged it beside the trail where I stashed it for future removal.
I considered turning back at this point, but we decided to continue along the flat section of trail and then began climbing the long slope. At the crest of the hill, in a small clearing to the west, was a frozen whitetail deer. Chase must not be a natural hunter, for he had dashed ahead, and never saw nor winded the deer. I could see the deer’s body and head and even his eyes. After a few seconds, it bounded off.
your white flag
tells us it’s time
to head home
