Solitude is for the birds

For a moment this morning as I stood at the top of our hill, I realized that living in the middle of nowhere has both advantages and disadvantages. I was joyfully surveying the panorama of woods, bluffs, and meadows, with no human dwelling in sight and no sounds other than the twitter of birds and the pitter-patter of big fluffy snowflakes falling on trees. It was a moment of pure solitude, one I had worked hard to attain: the ubiquitous rain finally turned to snow last night but it wasn't quite cold enough for the saturated ground to freeze, and walking uphill on snow-covered mud can be a challenge. But I pressed on and made it to the top, where the chickadees were squawking and the view was spectacular. This is what why we live here, I told myself. I could stay here forever.

But then I realized that I would eventually have to walk back down that hill, and if snow-covered mud is treacherous on the way up, it is even moreso on the way down. I imagined slipping and sliding down the hill with so much momentum that I would break through the fence and go flailing down the cliff. If I break a leg up here, I won't be able to complain to anyone except the chickadees, which are not known for their helpfulness in emergencies. I knew the garage guys were at work, but the garage is a good distance from the top of the hill and they were inside pounding and sawing and listening to music. This is the problem with living so far from people: when you need someone, there's no one there.

I came down the hill very carefully, testing every step before committing myself. A boot came untied about halfway down, but the lace was so coated with icy mud that I didn't try to tie it. Besides, where would I sit? I suppose a nimble person could manage to stand on one foot while tying a bootlace even on a steep slope covered with mud and snow, but I am not that person, so I kept walking. Then the snow turned to rain.

I washed up on our doorstep wet and muddy but in one piece, grateful that I had not been forced to rely on the birds to rescue me. Next time I want to be alone, I'll be sure to take someone with me.