On August 10, 2017

Ecotherapy and Killington nature notes

By Marguerite Jill Dye

Two Sarasota writer friends and I opened the door of the Marsh-Billings-Rockefeller National Historical Park’s Forest Center, ready to make notes for our non-stop, no pressure, “free writing” assignment. We’d signed up for Dartmouth Professor Terry Osborne’s Perception, Self-Awareness, and Nature Writing workshop in Woodstock’s 9th annual Bookstock Festival of Words.

We were eager to observe and explore as “sensory organisms,” mindful of all of our senses in the natural world. We’d read papers in preparation and were about to ask ourselves: What is nature and what is my relationship with nature? How do I as a living organism relate to nature? How does this sensory information affect who I believe myself to be and how I live in the world?

Through the genre of ecological memoir, we were entering the budding field of ecopsychology, linking human and planetary health and culture “in the belief that human psychology cannot stand apart from an intimate human connection with the natural environment.”

My senses were on high alert. Still under the roof overhang of the center, myriad insects in flight, backlit and floating, mesmerized me like Tinkerbells. I kicked off my sandals and stepped into the grass. Its cool blades tickled between my toes. I wanted to dance and twirl around but remembered our mission and so sat down on a clover blanket instead. The fir and pine pinnacle silhouettes incised a periwinkle sky. …

The sun baked my back like a chameleon, and left me hypnotized. I closed sleepy eyes and heard water lap far away in time and space on the shore of New Jersey’s Deer Lake. We’d spent sunny days on that sandy beach before building our Vermont retreat. Childhood memories of comfort and warmth flooded my mind. Worries vanished like cumulous clouds diffusing.

Tree tops swayed gently in a breeze. Dark tree trunks and shadowy woods sheltered a beckoning pine needle bed. I was spellbound by the twinkling stars that appeared through towering pines. Their outstretched boughs, laden with needles, stood guard, shielding us from harm. I was one with nature, one with the world, and awed by the beauty of our earth.

When I was a girl, I climbed trees like a monkey, leapt up and down hiking paths like a lynx. Dad taught me to be at home in the woods and to hike, climb, and ski in one piece. In nature, I oozed self-assurance. No way seemed too treacherous or steep. But hiking past Killington’s Catwalk Ski Trail, a childhood memory overwhelmed me last week. It bubbled up deep inside from my subconscious self. I’d stood there before, one winter on skis, trembling from cold, fear, and disbelief. Until that moment, I’d trusted my dad, but whatever possessed him to lead me there? How could he possibly expect me to ski down that icy, perilous path? But little by little, he patiently showed me how to carefully sideslip down. His confidence in his little girl gave me confidence in myself. On the cusp of the Catwalk Trail I honored and thanked my dad for empowering me to overcome fear and teaching me strength and calm.

Marguerite Jill Dye is an artist and writer divides her time between the Green Mountains of Vermont and Florida’s West Coast.

Do you want to submit feedback to the editor?

Send Us An Email!

Related Posts

Pies, parades, and porch chats

July 2, 2025
“America is a tune. It must be sung together.”—Gerald Stanley lee The month of July is the height of summer, bringing a spirit of celebration to all of us. Our town of Killington may be small, but we know how to celebrate the 4th of July. We start early with the annual book sale at…

Inventing a better ski day: the innovations that drew crowds to Killington

July 2, 2025
By Karen D. Lorentz Editors’ Note: This is part of a series on the factors that enabled Killington to become the Beast of the East. Quotations are from author interviews in the 1980s for the book Killington, A Story of Mountains and Men. “We’ve got a million dollars that says you’ll learn to ski at…

‘Almost Heaven’

July 2, 2025
The stage was simple, designed to resemble a wooden board that resembled the siding of any barn, anywhere across America. It could have been the barn behind my house, or the one that my cousins have down in Georgia. It could have been a barn in Colorado or even West Virginia.  Nothing remarkable at all,…

Getting away from it all

July 2, 2025
My family and I went to the beach this past week. The temperatures were hot, and the weather was sunny, making for a classic seaside vacation. The house we rented was in the harbor of the town where we were visiting, so while we didn’t stare out at the ocean, we were able to sit…