Tucked In: The McKenzie River

Hello,

And welcome to this tucked-in tale on Insight Timer.

My name's Mike,

And I invite you to get comfortable under the covers.

Take a few deep breaths,

In and out,

And settle in as we listen to a soothing bedtime story entitled Mackenzie River.

Sweet Dreams Mid-afternoon on a warm spring day,

Grace parks her car at the ranger's station.

Stepping onto the trail that leads to the Mackenzie River,

The unseasonable heat of the day retreats to a pleasant temperature as she moves into the forest.

After only a few feet along the path,

She stops and breathes in deeply.

The aroma of the tall pines and fir trees fill Grace's entire being as she closes her eyes and inhales slowly,

Satisfying her lungs and easing the mind as her breath is released.

Opening her eyes once again,

She looks around,

Noticing a forest filled with rich,

Deep colors and intricate mark patterns.

The canopy is hundreds of feet above.

This is primarily a coniferous forest,

And the needles stay green all year round.

The broadleaf trees of maples,

Oaks,

And birch nestle into pockets of open areas.

They shed their leaves during the winter months.

And now,

With the warmer season approaching,

The first signs of leaf buds are emerging,

Creating a vivacity of bright lime green amongst the deep hues of browns,

Burnt sienna,

And olive greens.

Tilting her head as a light breeze moves past,

A whispering of the leaves and a conversation of birds As far above,

Filter down.

Smiling,

Grace feels a surge of vitality flow through her limbs.

A desire to lengthen her stride,

Grace walks swiftly.

Lungs gulp the air with gusto.

The flow of energy moves through her limbs.

As a powerful sound builds just beyond the rise,

She rushes uphill and comes to a full stop at the high bank of the river.

The gushing water flows in volumes of aquamarine blues over magnificent boulders.

The thunderous sprays and brilliant sparkles catch her breath and she relaxes onto the ground,

Shoulders released,

Head slanted.

Observing the flow of the water below,

She feels its power and begins to embrace its rhythm.

Swaying a bit,

Letting her eyes just stare,

Nearly unblinking,

And her mind empties.

At the chatter of two Canadian geese flying up the river,

She is released from the trance.

Rising,

Stretching long and tall,

Gazing up into the treetops,

She tilts her body backwards and her muscles lengthen.

The trail takes Grace deeper into the forest.

It isn't a straight path,

But rather one that moves around and in between the trees and sometimes along the river.

The clean,

Earthly smell encourages deep breaths and the releasing of tension.

The path is spongy and nestled into the lush loam are tiny ferns,

Flowers,

And fungi.

Many of the older trees have fallen this way and that long ago and are now covered in deep,

Rich moss.

Miniature pink lady slipper orchids,

Bluebells,

Scarlet pimpernels,

And other dainty flowers have unfurled their delicate heads in spots of sun.

And stooping to take a closer look,

Grace breathes in the deliciously pungent earth.

Her body loosens and her breath becomes deep and rhythmic.

The slow and steady pulse of the forest flows through her veins.

Through the dappled light,

A maple leaf drifts to the ground as if on an invisible string,

Swinging slightly this way and that.

Elegant and silent,

It touches the earth and rests.

Entering a meadow,

The warmth of the sun fills the space.

The honeybees are busy at the abundance of flowers taking advantage of the sunny patch,

Buzzing and gliding through the air from one open face to the next.

Butterflies,

Sitting in the sunlight,

Opening and closing their wings.

Sitting down on the cushioned moss,

Tipping her head back,

The heat penetrates and flows down through her forehead,

Reaching deep into her chest.

The yellow glow fills her mind and creates space.

And cleared of all thoughts,

A release of energy flows out of her body as if she has exhaled.

Hearing a gentle movement to her left,

Her eyes open to see a small brown bird pushing a bit of moss into a half-built nest in a bush just a few feet away.

As it works at its forthcoming home,

Another bird flies in with a few twigs in her beak and places them on top before flitting away.

And then,

With a tweet,

The brown bird flies off as well.

After a deep yawn,

Grace moves back onto the forest path,

Re-entering the muted light of the tall evergreen trees.

She slows to let her eyes adjust to the darker tones.

The path has turned slightly downhill,

And soon she arrives at the river again.

The river is at a bend,

And it is deep and wide at this point.

The light babble of the water is gentle on the mind.

Finding a spot along the dappled sunlit bank,

Grace opens her backpack and takes out a blanket.

Sitting down,

She brings out a sketchbook and sits back to just observe.

The longer she is quiet,

The more she sees.

On the far side of the river,

A fallen tree is half in the river,

And about two feet up from where the tree dips into the water,

A turtle,

With its neck outstretched,

Is gathering the warmth of the sun.

At the bend in the river,

There is a pile of logs pushed together,

And grace wonders if it might be home to a beaver.

Flycatcher birds swoop up and down,

Receiving bugs for dinner.

An osprey,

High above,

Wings outstretched with effortless ease,

Is gliding along the air currents as if floating on the wind.

Dragonflies hum here and there,

Skating just above the river surface.

A blaze of red catches her eye,

And grace sees on a tree beyond the turtle,

The bright scarlet head of a pileated woodpecker.

It tilts back its head,

Twisting this way and that,

As if listening for the insects within the tree,

And then begins its drumming,

Breaking through the soft bark.

The beat adds to the intoxicating cadence of the whispering breeze,

The rustle of leaves,

The constant flow of the babbling river,

And the slow movement of the birds and bugs,

Allowing her mind to engage only with the pattern of the river,

The angles of the trees,

The shadows and contrasts.

Her ears let in the vibrant musical arrangement of the forest birds,

And taking up a pencil,

A light sketch of the scene emerges from her paper.

At the sound of a quack,

Grace looks up to see a male mallard duck fly in for a graceful landing,

And paddling indiscernibly,

He comes close,

The sun glinting off his iridescent teal green head.

Another quack,

And she sees the tawny female in the brush below.

She is sitting on a nest.

The faint peeps of baby ducklings emerge as the female mallard rises.

The mother waddles to the water's edge and glides into the river,

Dutifully,

And with a bit of peeping,

Ten fluffy ducklings plop into the river after her.

Forming a perfect line behind their mother,

They swim along the riverbank,

The mother in the front,

And the male mallard behind.

A flock of sparrows fly by,

Moving as one,

Up and down,

In a rhythmic pattern,

As if waltzing on ice.

A group of wood ducks is busy dunking their heads into the water,

Tails in the air,

Paddling the surface of the water with their webbed feet.

Behind her,

There is a deep whirring,

A resonant sound that grace feels deep in her belly.

And turning slowly,

She spots a hummingbird,

Dipping its tongue into a bright pink current flower.

A small disturbance in the calm water by the bend in the river catches her eye.

A glint of sunlight on a circle of ripples moving outward.

Then a head emerges by the bank.

As the beaver moves on to land,

Grace sees the fat little brown body and his long flat tail glisten in the sun.

He moves on to the bank and comes to a small cotton tree.

Circling it,

The beaver reaches out one small front leg and nudges a low branch.

The branch bends easily and the beaver opens its mouth to reveal two large teeth.

Biting down,

The beaver easily snaps the branch off the tree.

And with the branch in its mouth,

It pulls it into the river and swims to the pile of logs near the bend.

And then,

Just as it reaches the pile,

The beaver disappears below the surface,

Pulling the branch below.

With a slight smile,

Grace releases her breath deeply and turns back to the drawing.

But her attention is once again brought from the page when she hears the snap of a twig to the right.

And turning slowly,

She spies a deer wandering through the understory.

She has stopped to stare at grace.

Her soft white ears twitch and the deepening sunlight reflects off of her big brown eyes.

Each observes the other silently.

Another deer appears just beyond.

This one is small,

With white spots dotted here and there in its khaki fur.

The mother stares,

Motionless.

But sensing grace's calm,

The deer relaxes,

Nudges the small deer forward.

And they meander off.

The deer reminds her that the sunlight is at a lower angle and it is time to wander home.

Stretching again,

She packs the sketchbook and blanket and steps onto the path.

A warm breeze moves through the woods and the leaves and needles rustle,

Releasing pine and lilac aromas as she walks.

The sun is coming through the trees in great swaths of warm light.

Walking along the soft trail is easy.

And as the gurgle of the river recedes and the quiet calm of the forest envelops grace,

Her mind is at peace,

Her body is relaxed,

And she knows sleep tonight will be deep and restful.