Quiet In The Wild

Moments of quiet in the wild look very different depending on the seasons. In winter it always seems to be visualized in the dark sparse branches of trees in the woods; bending in the wind like crooked fingers. In spring everything bursts into vivid color; the woods start stirring in a sea of bluebells and suddenly every view is obscured by a canopy of green leaves. But I think one of my favorite bits of wilderness to escape into come later, at the cusp of summer where wildflowers are filling the meadows and the sea-pinks are dusting the cliff edges along the water. It's funny though how much I enjoy a brief escape into nature, but fear a longer respite. Recently Thomas threw out the idea of going away for a week towards the end of summer to a quiet island cottage. The owner would bring us across in his boat and then we would be marooned for a week with the modern conveniences of heat and electricity, but without wifi or even access to a local store or pub (it is a small island). At first I was terrified of the idea--a full week without computers, with minimal access to the outside world, no freedom of movement (we can't leave the island since we won't have a boat and there isn't a regularly scheduled ferry), etc. But the more I think about it the more intrigued I am. If a few hours walk through a bit of wilderness and disconnection from all of my devices revitalizes me so much how much more restored would I be after a full week of being completely disconnected? We'd have the island to explore, a mound of books to read, and plenty of time to dip our toes into so many much-neglected creative pursuits we always get distracted away from. It would be an interesting experiment and one I'm getting closer and closer to agreeing to...