Since we are still doing the social distancing thing, I figured I should go out in the woods and hike around alone. The trails are all closed, but nobody monitors the forest service roads. Since I tend to walk on random roads, rather than trails and roads near attractions, I rarely encounter other people.
Today I explored an old clear cut. My thinking is that the trees are all small- under 10 meters high- and I should be able to reach any mutations I find without using the gun. Plus, I will see a larger mix of species that grow in the sun as well.
I didn't find any interesting mutations, but I had an enjoyable walk in the woods. I tend to think a lot when I do that, so I reflected on my experiences both as a plant hunter, and as a human being in general.
As I have gone out plant hunting, some days I feel disappointed for not having found anything. I sometimes worry that I picked the wrong place to look. But upon further thought, I know that is bullshit. The thing about hunting for plants is that interesting mutations can literally be found anywhere. They could be in the middle of a clear cut, in someone's yard, a parking lot, or on the side of a busy freeway.
I tend to hike and explore in places that have diverse and interesting plant life. Those places usually aren't the most popular hiking trails, which are frequented by people who value large old-growth timber, spectacular views, and waterfalls. I enjoy those things as well, but they are not my primary focus.
What I love the most is that you can find wonders- real wonders, not consolation prizes or Pollyanna bullshit- anywhere. The place need not be sacred, beautiful, or awe-inspiring. I would never have found some of the plants in this blog if I had stuck with popular outdoor spots.
I traversed the clearcut, carefully looking at the trees and undergrowth. The trees included Douglas fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii), Western Larch (Larix occidentalis), and Pacific Silver fir (Abies amabilis). Closer to the road, I saw some Pacific Yew (Taxus brevifolia) as well. On the ground, there were mats of Arctostaphyllos, and the occasional Anemones in flower.
I thought about my career trainwreck. As I have mentioned in previous blog posts, I have had some trouble with my career. It hasn't been easy for me. I worked as a special education teacher. I loved the work, but I struggled to get along with coworkers and (especially) supervisors.
After my dad died a couple of years ago, I found myself less able to swallow the large load of stress that the job produces. I struggled. Shortly thereafter, Donald Trump won the US election for president. Immediately afterward, the climate of my workplace changed. I worked in a high school in a conservative area. Whereas before I felt tolerated as a harmless weirdo, the tension between me and my conservative coworkers turned ugly.
I won't go into detail. It was strange enough that I doubt that people would believe me. If I hadn't been there, I'm not sure I would believe it myself! Suffice it to say that it got unpleasant and hostile enough that I just walked out of my job. It certainly wasn't the first time I've quit a job. But this time was pretty final. I'm not going back to that career.
Maybe it was being forced to look at my own mortality. Losing a parent has a way of shoving that down your throat. We don't get an infinite amount of time in this life, and it is important how we spend it. I am simply not willing to be that miserable.
Granted, I was able to pay off my mortgage when I sold my dad's house. If I hadn't done that, I would be pretty fucked right now. Even so, however, I am kind of poor. As I consider my next steps in life, I am looking at the choice between living frugally, or returning to a regular job.
At times, I feel bad about my inability to fit in and toe the line with a career. I see college classmates and former work colleagues who are in the height of their careers. They drive nicer cars, have nicer houses in better neighborhoods, and can take expensive vacations. There is also (perhaps only in my imagination) a prestige that comes with having a professional career and a good middle class job.
But perhaps I am taking the lesser-traveled route. Maybe not the righteous one the Robert Frost envisioned, but the path laid out by my own limitations and boundaries.
Can I take a lesson from plant hunting? Can treasure be found on the road I am walking? While other people may spend their free time snowboarding, taking cruises, and climbing mountains, maybe on my quieter back road, I will find things they will never see.
At least that's what I'm telling myself.
