Friday, January 2, 2015

Dwelling, Snow and Memory

I've been reading some of Tim Ingold's new book....so thinking about dwelling- and living- life as process, as medium.  Walking on my snowshoes along the back trail in the ravine, I pause for some frozen highbush cranberries.
Their refreshing tang is sharp on the tongue.  Experiencing snow, red jewels of colour, aspen and wild cherry trunks.  Being.  Moving.  Traversing the line of the trail, also a line of memory.  (But of course one must not forget that lines have width, extent, as well as length.  This line was widened by my snowshoes, which require a wider trail width than the feet of walkers, or the fat tire of snow bikes).  Looking down at my snowshoes, made of maple, laced with babiche of deer and of cowhide, decked with red and black pompoms.  Percy made these.  Percy had been making snowshoes since he was 14.  He's gone now, on the trail to wherever we go when we leave this place.  Percy made these for me 37 years ago, when my daughter was a tiny infant still riding in a snugglie pack.  I enjoy the pattern their prints make on the new fallen snow, enjoy the freedom to pick my path as depth of snow is not relevant to constraining my motion.  I'm wearing my canvas boots, Tli Cho work, made for my late mother in law Jean when she was community health nurse in what was then called Rae Lakes.  She gave them to me when I went north for winter fieldwork 15 years ago.  Enjoying the comfort of the deep red wool duffel liners made by my Gwich'in friend Agnes, hand stitched with herringbone stitch in variegated tones of blue and purple.  She found it a bit of a challenge to fit Gwich'in cut duffel liners into Tli Cho canvas boots....but they work wonderfully, keeping feet and legs warm.  Like wearing slippers or walking on a cloud.  They are perfect for the snowshoes, fit the bindings effortlessly, allow one to step into the shoes, and as easily step out, sparing the hands from fumbling with frozen buckles or laces. Dwelling.  Sharing life with the trees and birds and animals of the ravine.  Walking among the trees.  A good way to walk into the new year.