The wonders of wandering

Wandering is a pastime worthy of indulgence. To wander is to venture forth and let the day design itself. And so one turns at intriguing signs or maybe every ten miles, stops at barn sales, lemonade stands and artists’ studios, follows rivers or ridgelines or just heeds hunches.

That’s how our recent ramble happened. Driven by an interest in wetlands, curiosity about a butterfly barn and a desire to shed the constraints of predictable routines, ambling companion, Krista, and I took to the open road. Our goal was to lose our way. Or as Webster puts it, “to go astray in mind or purpose.” Here’s how the day developed.

Along the Delaware River, in Milanville, Pennsylvania, Barbara, Ed and Susan are setting up The Butterfly Barn for a program on wetlands, sponsored by the Delaware Highlands Conservancy, a non-profit land trust. The day is dreamy with sun and we are welcomed by a small flock of chickens poking interestedly about our ankles. Our gaze is directed across a meadow of undulating grasses and toward a 150-year-old black maple gracefully guarding a landscape that leads to the Delaware River. We are here to learn from two landowners who established wetlands on their properties. Snuggled into old couches and chairs lining the barn’s belly, we hear how they did it and peruse their interesting slides. We depart with information and inspiration, our imaginations lit with ideas.

Onward we wander, crossing the one-lane bridge at Skinner’s Falls into New York and landing for lunch at East Ridge Organic Food in Hankins. Here, our bodies are nourished with healthful pesticide-free foods. A cheerful sign perched on Route 97 proclaims that Bed of Petals lies along a country road, four miles off the beaten path. Diversions are often delightful, and this one drops us at a small greenhouse fronted by a satellite dish filled with flowers soaking up the sun. Wide dusky sky is the backdrop against which we choose thyme, spicy basil and giant pumpkin seedlings.

We chance upon a farm stand, drift along Callicoon Creek, and poke around a nifty white barn filled with intriguing things like a cast iron Dutch oven and “Bum Thumb” guitar picker’s soap. A yard sale yields two quirky pieces of stemware, a sweet sweater and pleasant conversation with Nicole, a Narrowsburg business owner redefining her former city life in this rural setting. We gather chicory, lettuce, cilantro, pea shoots and parsley at Gorzynski’s Organic farm. All are fresh with the zest of recent harvest. The main street liquor merchant in Narrowsburg entertains us with wine lore and shares a recipe for Tuscany Olive Oil Cake laced with delicate Muscat wine.

Somewhere along the wander, we pass the home of a wonderful woman I’ve never met. In a thoughtful act of kindness, Linda Smith mailed my windblown kayak registration card back to me after finding it along a Narrowsburg road. Thanks be.

A fine moment in any wander is the return to home. If the day has gone poorly, it is a comfort to be relieved of it. If it has been fruitful and fun, there is the secondary thrill of unpacking the car, reveling again in the day’s cache. Every find flashes with memories—the bright flare of excitement in a wetland presenter’s voice at his discovery of a rare Jefferson salamander, the robust vigor of organic merchants and growers, the golden energy stored in the fruits of their labors, shining forth in a smile, slanting lazily through the hemlocks, bouncing brightly off the riffles of the river. One needn’t wander far to gain a sense of wonder. Amble onward.