Kelly's Preserve

As I mentioned before, I have found a tiny chunk of nature here near Kelly’s apartment just outside of Washington D.C. (click here for where I live now and the bit of nature on the right) I can tell that this little piece of nature will be a great source of healing and grounding for me – and Kelly – in our remaining time here.

A mallard couple are the only permanent feathered residents on the pond, but they share with many guests.

The first time I went there I brought my noise-canceling headphones, aiming to drown out the drone of the two major highways that intersect just yards away. It did the trick, but it also cut me off from something far more important, the songs and chirps of the dozen or so bird species that call this little area home. Luckily, fifteen or so minutes into my relaxing sit in the sun, two dogs, freshly soaked from a dive in the river, ran to me, shoving two big wet noses in my face, reminding me of the unquestioning joy of animals.

My second trip there followed an evening of heavy showers, transforming the tiny stream into a roaring muddy rushing torrent. It also filled side-streams that run, in concrete gutters, across the paved foot path. As I passed over one I saw, much to my surprise, a crawdad struggling in a crack in one of the great concrete slabs.

Now I tend to be one to think that we should let nature take it’s course whenever possible, but I couldn’t help but pick the little guy up and return him to the nearby pond from which he must have been washed in the rains. The way I see it, nature didn’t put those big concrete slabs there in the first place, and I could see that he was going to be stuck, dry out, and become a tasty meal for some lucky bird in the not-so-distant future. He’ll probably end up that way eventually, but hopefully when he’s a bit bigger, and hopefully when he has a fair chance at things.

A cardinal, not really blending in….

I also began to observe the amazing diversity of birds in the area. But it wasn’t until I brought Kelly down (amazingly, she had never been here before) that I was educated in just how many different birds were here – she could even identify most of them by their call. Among them are: morning doves, blue jays, red-winged blackbirds, cardinals, robins, and mallards. We also saw crows, a lone seagull (“Maybe it’s Jonathan Livingstone?” Kelly suggested), two circling raptors, and – as we sat on a balancing beam soaking up sunshine – a blue heron, Kelly’s totem animal, caught the corner of my eye as it passed us en route to the pond.

Slowly but deliberately, Kelly and I made our way to the pond, like children brimming with anticipation at what we would see. And there s/he was – tall and gorgeous, walking with absolute precision along the edges of the great still water. It was a moment of very deep communion for us both, a moment when the highways could not be heard, the weariness of travels disappeared, and worries of past and future fell away. We were just there – just being.

Today was yet another adventure in discoveries at the preserve (Kelly’s name for the place, which I am happy to adopt). As I sat, reading a paper about Karma, two geese flew over me honking wildly; they circled once and then splashed down into the pond. I decided this would be a nice time for a walk and stealthily crept along the path toward them. As I rounded a curve and the pond began to come into view I heard a great rustling up ahead and out jumped a little red fox! Now, I had just received a call from Kelly (nicknamed red fox), telling me she was going to a later yoga class so would miss joining me in the preserve in the afternoon, so I took this as a little sign that she would certainly still be with me in spirit.

‘Twas a lovely afternoon, as were all of those that I’ve managed to spend down at the preserve. It has its little faults though. There is a ton of garbage there in various states of decay, in the trees, in the stream, and everywhere in between. There is the sound of the passing cars on all sides, which I suppose just need to be ‘tuned out’. Today there was the thundering overflight of two Air Force One helicopters moving low to the ground to remind me of just exactly where I am in the world.

And then there are the people. Now, in Montana when you see someone on the trail you would naturally smile, say ‘hi’, maybe even strike up a conversation. But here I have been struck by how interaction-avoidant the people are. Tuesday I was there, reading in the grass at one end of the preserve, when I heard two women and a dog approaching around a bend. When they got in eye-shot of me one of them said loudly, “there’s a man” and they turned around. The same thing (minus the comment) happened to Kelly and me a couple times when we were there. Others would pass and avoid eye-contact, and only one has ever replied to my greeting with a quick, ‘hi’ (this was the guy with the two big friendly dogs).

I guess that’s just a cost of living in this part of the world. Kelly says it’s a place that nobody comes to live, they just come to get ahead. That is interesting. It leaves you with communities with no commUNITY. A sense of danger everywhere, even within the gates of this upscale condominium complex. I think it stems from deeper issues in the American psyche (mine included), the need/desire for material wealth, progress – getting ahead at all costs, status, and so on and on and on… – But there’s nature!!! So despite my grumbling tangents, I am happy 🙂

Kelly’s Preserve