“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.

I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary.

I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms...”

----Henry David Thoreau

Yesterday, Bill and I went to the woods, as we often do.

Unlike Thoreau, our frequent visits to the woods do not necessarily involve a specific goal of living deliberately.

Still, while there, we, more often than not, add one more page to the individual books of our lives, knowing that we are truly living.

Our trip to the woods, surrounding a pristine body of water called Brush Lake, served as a celebration of sorts.

With that in mind, we took with us an assortment of celebratory treats, including two cans of beer from Fremont, Wash., where our daughter Annie works.

We celebrated Bill's recent progression to truly living again via walking without aid of crutches or a knee roller.

We also celebrated that two ol' fuddy duddy's had pulled off a successful four days of "Life with Emma."

As surrogate grandparents, we saw that she was fed and watered, taxied, enjoyed, loved and properly nurtured and prepared on Prom Day.

Bill and I truly loved our role as Emma's temporary guardians, especially when she came walking in the door from her Prom night at 12:29---ONE MINUTE EARLY!

After arriving at Brush Lake, north of Bonners Ferry, we found the almost perfect picnic table----in the sun on a cold, brisk day.

Twas totally perfect, thanks to a couple of wadded up paper towels retrieved from pockets and used to wipe off remaining pools of water from the overnight rain.

We nibbled on nuts and Cheetos and cheese and sipped on our respective cans of tasty "Head Full of Dynomite," from the Fremont Brewery.

Bill also took brief walks to the lake and once summoned me to come and watch the fish rising.

When it was time to leave, he said he was going to the restroom, and I said I'd go there when he came back.

During his absence, a pickup came through the campground. Aware that our truck was parked in the picnic area next door, I waved at the occupants to let them know we could move it if they wanted a table.

No, they were just driving through, they said.

Well, half an hour later, I can say that Nancy and Blaine Grossman did not just drive through the campground nor through our lives.

Again, some new, best friends!

The couple hails from Eastern Montana, and Blaine still works as a lineman for the City of Bonners Ferry.

We learned many commonalities as we chatted, including a deep and abiding love for Border Collies. BTW: Blaine and Nancy are looking for a pup.

And, so we went to the woods, only to come back as we always do---glad and happy and thrilled, as always, with the unpredictable discoveries which so often add to Thoreau's goal and our continuous underlying goal of knowing that we continue to "live."

This morning I went to the woods because I could.

With no morning paper and chores speeding by and the sun shining and a gentle breeze blowing, I had no choice but to point those feet toward the far pasture.

Crawling through the fence in the second pasture, which, by the way, is almost ready for horse's teeth, I watched and listened to a pair of honkers making their way through the hay field.

Walking on, I crossed some remaining water puddles in the swale which runs through our field and into the Meserve Preserve.

While walking the fenceline next to the Lodgepole pasture, I thought once again about purchasing some woven wire fencing to ensure that horses grazing will not be tempted to push their way into the next pasture.

As I entered, the lodgepole pasture, there it lay in all its aging beauty, the double forked Lodgepole that created so many memories with so many wonderful friends, families and even strangers over the years.

It no longer stands tall, beckoning hundreds of adoring and reverent eyes to its prominent spot in the middle of the far pasture----the same spot to where so many walked through the pastures or through the woods for their induction into the "Lodgepole Society."

The big tree crashed to the ground a few years ago. Its outer bark is almost gone and its two gray trunks offer a dramatic contrast to the rich and growing green grass surrounding it.

This often distracted mind made another observation this morning: a young tree is growing relatively close to where the lodgepole stood.

That dead tree was unique in itself, and I doubt that its living youthful friend will create quite the drama that we enjoyed every time we walked to that pasture or summoned our friends to its spot.

Still, the tree symbolizes one of those essential facts of life, and that is simply: that life goes on.

Happily, as long as we are on this earth, we can live it deliberately if we so choose.

Going to the woods shows us such things, even in its "lowest terms."

Happy Monday.