The deck of my friend’s house in the woods overlooking the south end of Seneca Lake was ideal, a nature-filled setting to sip my Sunday-morning tea and quietly meditate, well away from the crowded, noisy touristy hubbub in Watkins Glen and Watkins Glen State Park down the hill.
But, instead of basking in the beauty of the morning, I was stewing about the global IT crash, U.S. presidential politics, and climate change.
Until Oliver wandered up onto the deck.
Oliver is a diminutive white pooch, poodle-like with a touch of cocker spaniel and who-knows-what-else. Oliver, a gargantuan black Labrador retriever, and a calico cat named Bianca were passing by with their neighbor-owner. Oliver trotted right up to me and put his paws on the chair next to my legs. My dark mood dissipated in seconds. He looked at me intently, as if he knew I was distressed.
My dog Biscuit does that sometimes too. Dogs possess a kind of magic, I believe.
The three animals stayed around for a few minutes while their human companion leading the parade kept walking up the hilly road. They eventually trotted quickly after her. Oliver turned around and looked at me before continuing on.
If a dog can look wistful, he did.
I still ruminated briefly about the IT crash that affected so many people and caused such mayhem, but my mood wasn’t as dark. In some locales, the issue may not resolve quickly, all caused by the worldwide, software-induced, computer systems’ failures.
Ditto for presidential politicking. It has been painful to watch Democrats snipe at each other as they debated whether to support President Joe Biden for election or choose another candidate. At least that seems to be settled with Biden stepping down and Kamala Harris stepping up.
And climate change? How damn hot does it have to get before the human race stops acting like lemmings and instead does something collectively to save the planet?
Those disturbing notions slowly faded as I started to take notice of the nature around me. Wrens nesting in a carved-out gourd a few feet from my head were chattering and screeching. Other birds landed on the deck and railings, looking at me curiously. A huge eagle soared overhead, casting a shadow that spooked the birds on the deck. Then, a woodchuck ambled by nonchalantly, apparently quite unconcerned by the tea-sipping human writing on a notepad a few feet away.
For a moment, I felt like I had stepped into the pages of a Dr. Doolittle book.
The days spent at this in-the-woods retreat have been a good reminder for me of the healing powers of nature. It’s far too easy to get ensnared in screaming headlines, particularly those predicting some political Armageddon. That’s not to suggest we follow Pollyanna’s lead and always be only bright and cheery. When evil lurks, we should put on our boots and do battle as needed. The Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025, which would crush democracy as we know it, comes to mind.
But getting into nature clearly demonstrated for me the soothing power it holds. It helps that I have no access to the internet, only a stack of books, the kind that complement being away from crowds and encourage thoughtful contemplation — like Henry David Thoreau’s “Walden,” a favorite since college days.
“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essentials of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach,” Thoreau wrote at the beginning of his famous, aphorism-filled book.
I think I’ll bring it out to ready on the deck with my tea while I wait for Oliver and his companions to wander by today.
