Under the Willow June 20^th, 2001

I am very fortunate that this summer I am spending the season at a camp on the lovely Saint Lawrence River. Although the area of the camp is well peopled most are only weekend campers and I have the area to myself much of the time. This gives me mornings for juice on the porch watching a great blue heron fish from the dock and evenings to enjoy the multiple colors of the sunset. The sunset of June 20^th begins the longest day of the year. I use sunset to mark the beginning keeping in accordance with the Celtic tradition of beginning the day at sunset. This sunset is spectacular with a massive pinky orange ball melting in to the low distant rolling hills of the Ontario shore. The pink and yellow afterglow this evening will last until almost 10pm. A grand night on the calm waters is ahead of me.

The camp itself is an old structure much in need of repair but it is comfortable and suits my needs. This is the summer I hoped to catch up on my reading and to spend time in quiet meditation. Not far from the noise of my home in the city this spot affords me the space for this gentle reflection. After a month in residence I find that the space is more than I could have hoped for. I am amazed at the number of birds whose songs awaken me each morning and also at the seemingly endless supply of baby bunnies which hop all over the grounds.

The most outstanding characteristic of the camp is the presence of a massive willow tree, which engulfs its main portion. The trunk of the tree is perhaps 5 feet in diameter and splits into two huge sections. The tree has become a constant companion, offering her canopy as shade for the blistering heat of the last week. This willow is the tree, which I use in my private rituals and her presence continually reminds me of the bounty and beauty of the Earth Mother. While providing me with much needed shade she provides homes for a countless array of creatures. I have seen squirrels on her branches and the nests of several kinds of birds. Even a wood duck made her nest there earlier this season. I have not seen her in quite some time and hope that she brought her young family safely to the river. I did not investigate her nest in fear that I would frighten her away from the eggs. But I know that she is long gone. The tree is also home to chipmunks and a huge amount of insects too numerous to count.

My efforts to determine the species of willow have not proved successful. Even my Peterson's Guide to Eastern Trees tells me that some willow species are so similar that even experts have difficulty classifying them. I am inclined to believe that this is a silky willow not all that different from the three that grew by the creek bed which ran in front of my childhood home. Is that why I am so comfortable under this willow? Does her massive presence remind me of those moments of safety in the home of my parents so long ago? Perhaps she does.

Life on the river is always full of surprises. Yesterday a grey sky reflected in a greyer water. Waves crashed over the docks and whitecaps crashed their endless assault upon the shore. In the midst of all this commotion a family of Canadian Geese making its way up the shore to quieter waters of the bay stopped to see how much bread a neighbor and I could empty out of our cupboards. These are the first Canadian Geese I have seen on the river. Most of my visitors have been Mallards. I enjoy watching the babies grow into beautiful ducks. The geese I know are much more aggressive and their bite can be quite painful. I do not plan on feeding them on a regular basis. The ducks however have proved to be great companions. When I step out the door in the morning, there are several who sleep on the dock and who awaken to see if I have any breakfast to share with them.

Each day my appreciation for the river grows and I am drawn to become her champion. I am incensed each time a see an ocean going ship or a laker speeding through the channel. I know that the huge wake made by these vessels erode the shoreline and cause havoc to the natural creatures dwelling there. It is with relief that I learn that next season all ships entering the seaway will be equipped with computer tracking devices that will closely monitor their speed as they make their way through the channel.

Our wonderful river is a marvel of natural beauty and efforts to maintain her health is of utmost concern. The season is still young and I look forward to many more days of introspection on her bank.