Not All who wander – At Home
Chapter One
J.R.R. Tolkiens once said, “Not all who wander are lost.” Over the years, this saying has become my mantra. When I say this my husband always grins and says, “yes, but in your case, you’re always lost,” which earns him a pillow to the head. But truly, I never intend to get lost. I always start out with a firm plan for where I’m going and how I’ll get there. Through many years of wandering I have also discovered that the saying, “the best laid plans of mice and men (and me), oft time go astray,” (Robert Burns), describes the usual results of my wandering. Indeed, I’ve discovered that life’s journey is not a neatly laid-out map, but is filled with unpredictable twists, turns and detours, that God alone knows. Yet, despite this, I still step out my door to the adventure that awaits. Which brings me the next tale.
Over the years, my husband and I have lived in many different areas. Mississauga, Manitoulin, Sudbury and Cochrane and Massey. Most of the places we’ve lived since leaving Mississauga have been farms. What a delight it’s been for us to be surrounded by God’s creation—to wake up in the morning to the sound of birds singing, instead of highway traffic rumbling!
Because of choosing this country life we have also chosen some country hobbies, like cross country skiing, snow shoeing, horseback riding, farming and trail blazing! By trail blazing I mean—pioneer woman (that’s me) cutting new trails through the forests on our farms to use for outdoor fun. This admittedly is an odd pastime for a woman but it’s been one of my favourite activities, over the years. Once the kids were on the bus, I was out the door, looking for a new trail. Do you see a problem?
“It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.” J.R.R. Tolkien
So true!
Chapter Two
One fateful morning, I headed out the door with my handy dandy brush axe to carve out a brand-new trail through the forest on our farm. Usually, when I head off on this sort of adventure, I have a rough direction in mind. And today was the day that I was going to connect two of my existing trails together, with a simple, little linking path. This tiny trail, would give me some extra options when I was out walking or skiing. In my mind, I pictured the perfect place for it—I knew exactly where it would go, so I headed out with energy and determination. But first—an equipment check. Good sturdy hiking boots—check, water for hydration—check, work gloves—check and my brush axe—check. Good, I’ve got it all.
Crossing the large, pasture to get to our hiking trails, was the worst part of the hike. The grass was always long, wet and full of bugs. Oh well, it has to be done. Shrugging, I began the long trek to the beginning of our trails. Arriving at last I gave a satisfied sigh, while wiping the warm glow of sweat from my brow and swatting the first mosquito of the day. Looking around, I noticed the clear blue skies above and a light mist drifting across the fields—this day was heating up, fast, Man, I’d better get started, before it gets too hot and buggy. I took a quick gulp of water, while casually patting my pockets. Hmmm, where is that thing? I checked all my pockets once again, much more thoroughly. Rats, I’ve forgotten my compass. Worry, briefly creased my brow. Unfortunately, I am directionally challenged so this might present a problem. I groaned, as I looked towards home. It was quite a hike back to the house and I was limited in time, since I had to be back to meet the school bus. I chewed my lip. Hmmm, what should I do? “You should go back, you know how easily you get turned around in thick brush?” my cautious self muttered. “Oh, come on,” said my impatient self, “don’t be such a worry-wart, it’s just a little path, Easy Peasy. Why fuss?”
Chapter Three
I went about halfway along the starting trail and turned to face the direction that I knew the other trail was located and began to cut. This particular section of bush was filled with tag alders—a rather nasty thick shrub with lots of small branches to cut. The cutting was arduous because of this and it wasn’t easy to keep a straight line. Stopping, I put the brush axe down and wiped my brow.” Man is it ever thick brush in here,” I muttered, turning a big circle. “Can’t see a thing.” Glancing at my watch, I exclaimed, “Wow, I’ve been cutting for two hours, no wonder I’m tired. I’m surprised that I haven’t reached the other trail, yet.” I looked up, and corrected my direction according to the sun. “Let me see, it’s morning still, so the sun is in the east and I want to go west—ah that’s my problem. I’ve veered too far to the east, so I should turn here,” I muttered. I turned in what I thought was a westerly direction and looked ahead. I planned a path to a tree about twenty metres ahead and began to cut. Glancing at the sun, I continued in what I hoped was west, fully expecting to spot the trail at any moment. Cutting from tree to tree, I bee-lined through the bush for another hour. “Phew,” I grumbled, throwing down my axe. “How was I to know how thick the forest underbrush would be?” Peering all around, suddenly I spotted something ahead through the woods. Bending down, I tried to get a better view. I could just barely see what looked like a roof—perhaps of a barn, though I couldn’t be sure. Standing up, I scratched my head. “That’s odd,” I thought.
Chapter four
“I don’t know of any barns that you can see from the other trail. How could I have missed such a landmark?” I shook my head. “Well, there was no point in stopping now, and it’s so nice to see something other than brush.” I blazed ahead. “Yippee,” I yelled. Jumping up and down in joy, I pointed ahead. “Who are you pointing for? Dah, fluff for brains.” I laughed at myself as I chopped the last branch and stepped onto the trail in front of me. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I casually looked to my left, then to my right. I scratched my head. A puzzled look shone from my face. “Hmm, this doesn’t look like the trail I was aiming for?” I turned a full circle. “Where am I? And look, someone has been cutting on my trails. There’s a brand-new trail over to my right.” Puzzled, I looked ahead. There was the barn roof that I had spied earlier and it belonged to a very familiar family—mine! I plopped down on a boulder beside the trail, head in hands. This was impossible. I jumped to my feet and looked to the right, then the left, then back down the trail that I’d just cut. It slowly dawned on me that I had arrived right back at the same trail where I began—a mere metre from the original starting point.
“Good grief. I’ve cut a complete circle in the bush—totally missing the trail I was aiming at.” I shook my head in amazement.
I thought I knew where I was going. I thought I had a plan, but, clearly without the proper equipment, an important component of good preparation, my plan fell apart. Looking up, I said, “Okay, Lord, I’ve learned this lesson.” I grinned and headed for home. I giggled, as I considered my husband’s reaction, to my latest adventure.
Not all who wander are lost…but sometimes we are. I’d have to find another mantra.
Shrugging, I headed for home.
