I recently acquired a new goal: make a pilgramage to all the woods, savannas, glens, marshes and groves that are found in Lake County, Illinois. I have always found Lions Woods to be a sanctuary for my soul and have taken in quite a bit of the trails at Illinois Beach Park. Yet I haven’t been to very many other woods and preserved natural areas in this area. I drive past them a lot in my home care job and I feel the lure and tug to go on in but I would eventually forget about it. So this is the year of going to all of them in Lake County. I acquired a map and am going to put the date next to each one I visit. And I am going to enjoy this immensely.
This past Sunday, after a long day of work, I quickly dropped off my nursing equipment and exchanged it for Judy’s comfy bike and escaped to Van Patten Woods. It is the most northern wooded area before you reach the Wisconsin border. It was a perfect autumn day and I just relished every moment of it. I think the highlight for me was watching people horseback riding through the yellow, orange and copper leafed woods. It was so picture perfect. I decided I need a horse and that horseback riding is the preferred way of traversing a wood. Not on foot, not on a bike. One must be on a horse.
Up next: the Wadsworth Savanna.
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Where have you visited?
Heading west is a very different sensation than heading east. I live in Waukegan, Illinois and to get to Iowa one must travel through some of the worst traffic on the earth. It takes almost the same amount of time to get from my home to the Western Suburbs of Chicago as it does to traverse the width of the state of Illinois. And it doesn’t matter what time of day it is, how bad the traffic is, what ridiculous road construction project they are currently working on, I always have the same sensation. Remember that scene in the Matrix where Neo is one of many cocoons and is being birthed into the real world. He comes up slowly, dazed out of the slippery, tenacious goo that has been incubating him and looks around. And then he becomes unplugged and all the mechanical gadgets hooked into his back come out one after the next, and he is free. That is how I feel a good amount of time when leaving the Chicagoland area. And by the time I get to mile marker 112 on Interstate 88, I can feel myself gliding and picking up speed. Not necessarily speed in the car, but a different kind of movement. The sky opens up wider, I can feel my head lifting to the sky and my eyes alight on the clouds and I breathe my first big breath, a belly breath. I can often imagine myself (and this might sound strange to some) as a larger spiritual being that is so tall that my arms extend for a mile on each side of me. I can feel my breastbone being pulled to heaven and my head tilts back facing the sun. My arms stretch out to the north and the south, brushing across the fields of golden corn. My eyes catch every hue and distinction of color found in the earth, the trees, the streams, the harvest and even the great Mississippi. I feel free.
And when I finally cross that bridge and see the sign that welcomes me home, “The people of Iowa welcome you,” I smile and feel thankful for this place.
As the old state slogan used to say: Iowa you make me smile. It’s true.
I learned from someone/somewhere that if you have a lemon rind to dispose of you can chop it up into fine slices and put it through your garbage disposal to clean the blades and to freshen the air. I have to say that it really did smell fresh and pleasant, especially with hot water pouring through the drain as I ground the rind up. Have a try.
