The Wallace Stevens Moment

I hiked in two states today.

I am not backpacking across some mountaintop trail that runs through every state east of the Mississippi. I am just trying to stave off a weight problem as I take in some wonderful life experiences that (naturally) involve food.

The first experience is getting to visit with some family in Connecticut. When I was a wee lass, this branch of the family and I saw one another 2-3 times a year. Now, we are lucky to see one another 2-3 times a decade. My Connecticut aunt, who has always been a formidable hostess (she could take fellow Connecticut resident Martha Stewart with one arm tied behind her back) has made every meal like Thanksgiving. At the risk of appearing rude, many times I have had to push myself away from the table and amble towards the nature preserve at the end of her road. Either that, or finish the entire pistachio cake she baked and frosted to perfection.

The above-mentioned nature preserve is called Steep Rock. In past years, I have found my way to the summit of the steep hill for which it is named and taken in the breathtaking Western Connecticut wilderness. It is the only place I have ever seen a Scarlet Tanager, arguably the most beautiful red bird in existence. Today's hike was not so extensive, but I did pick up some rocks from the Shepaug River to give myself a sorely-needed upper arm workout while I lollygagged through the gorgeous springtime woods, birds singing and fluttering by me all the while.

After another one of my aunt's legendary midday meals, I made my way west to New York, where I am preparing for a week of intensive continuing education and continuing overindulgence at the Culinary Institute of America. Knowing that it's going to be pretty tough to "just have the salad" this week as I am surrounded by the best food made by the best chef-instructors under the sun, I took yet another hike to burn away the onslaught of calories. This time, I found a little trail behind Franklin Delano Roosevelt's home, filled with rocks and creeks and marshes and deer and frogs and blackbirds and a whole host of flora and fauna until a vista opened up and showed me the mighty Hudson River, up-close and personal. Wow.

This day creates for me what I would call a Wallace Stevens moment. Allow me to clarify that...in his masterpiece poem (one of my favorites), "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird", Stevens is utterly torn in the fifth stanza:


"I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after. "


Likewise, I am utterly torn. My Wallace Stevens moment is not knowing whether to prefer the culinary indulgences I have the good fortune to enjoy this week, or the natural majesty I have the privilege to experience as I correct for them.

In any case, today has been a good day, and I am grateful.