The rolling hills and more

After leaving New Haven in my car today I became a little bit confused. I wasn't sure where I was going or what I was looking for. We have a nice array of protected areas in Connecticut, but after looking at a map you will see that they are few in number. The vast amount of land is private, off limits, and largely unmarked. Ten minutes outside of New Haven I thought I would try to find some vernal pools so that I can track the life cycle of amphibians, from breeding in the early spring to metamorphosis in the middle and late summer. Most of these sites are probably hidden and on private land, not in a state park. So I figured I would just drive around some back roads, but aimless driving never solved anything. I know that too well, but I ignored it. Sometimes I feel that this rash compulsion to move in a direction, even when I am strikingly unprepared, is part of my cursed psychological makeup. And when I start moving there is no turning back, no retreat or recalculation. This actually happens when I am cooking as well; I start mixing things without design and end up with a horrible medley of absolutely nothing. But we should all love ourselves the way we are right? So I kept driving.

I drove through the towns of Durham and Wallingford, the latter of which has a quaint little downtown area surrounded by farmland and other rural landscapes. Much of the land was cleared in the past for agriculture. For a while I found myself coasting through a great expanse of brown fields hovering on a sea of gently rolling hills. I don't know what came over me, but I entered into a state of total euphoria. The sun reflected so brightly off of the treeless earth that it made me smile. There is something so alluring about the countryside, but I am not sure I am of keen enough mind to explain it. I just felt a flash of freedom, as if I were a wanderer on this great earth, and the waves of hills were the infinite expanse that made the world, and all that is to be discovered, endless. I don't know what it is so cozy about the idea of infinite space, but somehow it makes me feel alive. Of course I have seen a map. I do know that our planet is sphere-like, about 25,000 miles wide, and approximately two-thirds water; indeed I know this is the truth, but I don't want to think about it. In my mind, there will always be the crest of another hill crawling out from under the horizon.

So out from the clouds I fell as I parked my car on the edge of the Mackenzie reservoir. As I stepped out I felt a brief chill, but the rays of sun landing directly on my skin were neutralizing almost to the point that it felt like a full-on spring day. I could see many birds gliding on the water, and there were some ducks that dipped under the surface, popping up a few seconds later. But before getting a closer look at them I watched some people fishing a few hundred yards away on the other side of the reservoir. It was clearly a family, as I heard a child complaining to their parent that a sibling was messing with their tackle box. I watched a few minutes with admiration, thinking how nice it was to see a family spending time like this together, outside in the fresh air and in the middle of nature.

Mackenzie Reservoir Entrance


More later...Plus last week's entry