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So The
kitchen is crammed with people. It's
really hot and everyone is shouting orders
to everyone else as they get everything
ready for Christmas dinner. Too many
relatives in too small a space. I feel
like I have to get out into the fresh air
or I will jump out of my skin.
Uncle
Carlos notices that I'm not in the best
mood. He asks me if I want to take his
dog, Taco, for a walk. I tell him,
"Sure!"
There is
a lot of open space not far from my house.
I like to walk up there because usually
there is no one else around and if I do
run into someone, it's no big deal. You
just know that the kind of person who
likes that sort of wild place, is the kind
of person who is there to be alone with
their thoughts, and with Nature. They are
up there walking with their dog, or alone,
or riding a mountain bike. So when you see
them you hi and move on, without ever
having to leave that private place you
have made for yourself inside your
head.
The
trail up the hillside is lined with all
kinds of trees and underbrush. Someone,
years ago, had the idea to make this into
a real trail that you could walk on. It
must have been a lot of work to cut it
because on either side of the trail things
are pretty overgrown. The trail is narrow
and it winds up and up, turning here and
switching back there. It's more fun for me
to walk a trail like this than a straight
line because, even though I have walked
this same trail many times, as I come
around each bend, there is always
something I have never noticed before.
Today
there is also fog which I like very much.
There is something very nice about walking
through the trees in the fog. It makes the
whole woods seem mysterious... not in a
scary way, but in a magical way. I can't
explain it, but it just makes me feel like
I've walked into another time and place.
Taco
keeps ahead of me on the trail. I don't
need a leash here, which I like and I know
he likes. He's the kind of dog
that's independent. He wants to be out in
front, but he's not so independent that he
will take off and lose me. Sometimes he
runs up ahead, chasing a bird (which he
knows he will never catch, but still
enjoys the game of pretending that he
can). If his chase takes him up the trail
around a bend, and if I stop to see if he
notices that I'm not behind him anymore,
he will soon come back down the trail
looking for me. It happens every time!
Once he catches sight of me again, he
seems to smile (like whatever he was
worried about, instantly
disappears).
I have a
lookout place on this trail that I always
stop at. From there I can look pretty far
out over a valley of trees. I know, from
standing there on clear days, that
neighboring hillsides are also visible
from this point, and that they are covered
with houses, but on a foggy day like
today, not only can't you see the houses,
you can't even see the hillsides!
Everything is blanketed in the swirling
fingers of fog and all I can see in the
distance is the blurred, faint outline of
a tall tree, and behind it the even
fainter outline of another large tree.
Finally, the slightest hint of a third
tree whose silhouette is so faint that I
can almost imagine that it isn't really
there at all.
Looking
over the valley of fog, with no houses or
signs of civilization, it's very easy to
imagine what I am seeing is
exactly the way this land
looked two hundred years ago, or more. No
people, just trees, distant hillsides, and
fog. And if I were a man from two hundred
years ago, walking these hills with my
dog, I would probably have spoken Spanish,
like my ancestors, who lived on this land
back then.
The top
of the ridge is covered with eucalyptus
trees and man do they make a mess! At this
time of year, wide strips of their bark
are strewn everywhere. It's as if they
were shedding their skins, like gigantic
buffalo or snakes. (It seems like a
strange thing to do as the winter is
approaching, but that's the way it is with
eucalyptus trees.) They also drop these
nut-like things, seed pods, called
eucalyptus "buttons." They are small and
brown and knobby and they smell like...
eucalyptus, which, if you have never
smelled it is a cross between nutmeg and
pine. At least, that's what it smells like
to me. And on the underside of these
buttons, are five slits, that meet in the
center and look like a star. The seeds
come out of those slits and that's how new
trees get started.
In case
you're wondering how I know this, my
grandfather used to walk this trail with
me and he taught me all about this stuff.
He also told me that eucalyptus trees were
brought here to California from Australia
and that because of how fast they grow and
multiply, they usually push out the native
plants. As I looked around at the tall
shaggy trees on the ridge, I could see
that it was true. On sunny days, the
eucalyptus hog all the sunshine. The small
native plants and bushes, stay really
small because they don't get enough light
to grow any bigger.
It made
me think about white people who came to
California (and to lots of other places in
America) and how they grew really fast and
strong and ended up hogging all the
resources and eventually pushed the
natives off the land.
As Taco
and I headed back home, I saw three empty
bottles left under a tree. One was clear
glass, one was brown and the third was
green. I picked them up and carried them
down the trail. There's a recycling
container at the trail head and I was
going to put them there. On the way down,
I passed a woman who was hiking up with
her dog. At first I was embarrassed that I
was carrying three beer bottles. I was
afraid she would think they were mine. As
she passed me she noticed them and said,
"You picked up bottles! Thank you for
doing that!" When she said that I felt,
you know, proud. I didn't know her, but it
felt good that someone thought I was doing
the right thing.
When I
got home, I felt much better. I was also
starving and I hoped it wouldn't be too
long before dinner was ready.
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