I’ve been a creature of habit my entire life. My routines are etched in stone, practically. You can set your clock by them. In fact, my dog relies on them to such an extent that if I stray she’ll let me know in no uncertain terms, like flipping over her dog food bowl when it is dinner time.
Prior to the onset of the coronavirus known as COVID-19, people would have been considered my routines obsessive. Now, mental health experts suggest routine is the only way to survive the “stay at home” restrictions. It appears that people who disdain routine are having a more difficult time adjusting to the new normal. Maybe I could become a “routine coach.” But don’t call me at 10 a.m. because that is when I take my dog for a walk. She’ll start shredding my snotty Kleenexes if we are not out the door by then.
Having a routine does not mean you have to the do exactly the same thing at the appointed time. For instance, during my afternoon walks I’m more flexible on when and how long they are. My 10 a.m. walk is always the same – the yellow trail. The morning walk serves two purposes: 1) enable my dog to poop and survey her woods for intruders and 2) work out the arthritic kinks in my body.
Since my brain is fresher and my eyes are moister in the morning, I like to be able to devote at least two hours of uninterrupted time for writing after my walk.
My afternoon walk is more for my mental health. There is an intersection at the top of the hills that gives me three options – red, green or blue trail. I never know which one I’m going to take when I set off.
My dog waits at the intersection wondering which one I’m going to take. Sometimes I let her pick. Will we take the green trail, which I recently discovered is the trail preferred by deer? Or do we take the blue trail, which I also recently discovered is preferred by moose?
I hadn’t taken these trails for several months because of snow and ice, but when the snow melted I discovered this apparent agreement between the moose and deer. How did they reach this agreement? Did they have a conference and flip a stone to determine which gets green and which gets blue, such that neither the twain shall meet?
There is always something exciting to discover in the woods.
This time of year is particularly interesting because of the anticipation of the return of the wildflowers. When will I see my first red-stemmed violet that is about the size of my thumbnail? Will the pink lady slipper that was prematurely eaten by a rabbit or deer last year return and reach full maturity this year? The variety is vast and I look forward to seeing the painted trillium that dot the forest floor or the bunchberry and starflowers that blanket the sunnier patches on the hill.
My yard is filled with bluets in large patches that make it look like it has snowed in May. Makes me wonder if my town’s name, Whitefield, was chosen because the fields are white with snow and bluets most of the year?
My point is routine does not have to be mundane. My dog does not care which trail she takes in the afternoon because there are always new smells to discover and new territory to survey. All she cares about is that we go out every day, rain or shine. I’ve learned from her to keep my eyes open and my nose to the ground for nature’s inevitable surprises.
So, if you need “routine coaching” don’t expect to reach my by phone between 2:30 and 4 because that is approximately when I go for my afternoon walks and I never take my phone. But if you call and leave a message and I don’t call back for days, it might be prudent to call search and rescue because I may have fallen in the woods and cannot get up. And since I live alone, no one will know.
(Susannah Colt lives in Whitefield.)