"...I trusted in the Almighty… I knew I could only be killed once,
and I had to die sometime."
-Anne Bailey, 1823

Sunday, February 6

A walk alone



Once more the sky reflects a grim visage and the world beyond my small cabin seems quite gray. Though I have been in the company of good friends these days passed, I cannot help but feel quite alone. Perhaps t'is but a mindset, yet in truth, is fact.




I set forth for the Spring Mill in the early hours amid gathering snow clouds. Within minutes snow poured from the sky in chunks large as your fist settling quickly upon rock, tree, and trail.
Traveling became difficult and our progress was greatly slowed; regardless I came to the destined place and joined with others of the Seven Years War Organization. T'was with true pleasure I encountered the Parson and dear Maggie.
Though there was but a small crowd of people about, the Parson once more insisted upon Maggie that she tell her tale of the years since she left her dear Ireland.

I cannot begin to give justice in my words to the depth of Maggie's story of woe and strife, and once more I found myself unable to staunch the flow of tears. Perhaps t'was this tale which caused me to be morose in my own thoughts, for afterward I felt quite unfit for the company of others and set off from the lodge for a walk in the crisp winter air.

Foolishly leaving my rifle behind, I set out to wandering the nearby hillside. Not wishing to sully my dancing shoes for the evening to come, I wore my favorite wool lined moccasins which, though quite warm, gave no purchase for footing upon the layer of ice which crusted over the snow.










Still, the cool air upon my wet cheeks felt good and the exertion of a fast walk was good not only for me physically, it began to clear my mind as well. I took time to observe the beauty in which I was surrounded and took great joy in Mother Nature's handiwork.



Quite enthralled with my study of the area I gave less attention to my footing and was brought quite suddenly back to reality as my feet lurched out from under me and I began to slide down the hill. Surely then didn't I wish I'd worn more beneath my petticoats! Ice and snow gathered up as far as the waistband of my wool petticoats and quickly began to melt between my shift and skin leaving me quite literally chilled to the bone, not to mention quite certain I'd have blue and black reminders of this little trip for days to come.

Further, and of much - MUCH greater immediate concern was the sound which accompanied my fall. A sound of such depth and ferocity I knew exactly from whence it had come, a cougar! Reports had been made of such a creature in the vicinity and hearing it so close by set my heart racing! Knowing as I do, the tendency of these animals not to stalk their prey, but rather to lay in wait along an active game trail with the intent of taking opportunity as it presents itself; I suddenly felt as though I'd presented myself as an opportunity!

Picking myself up, brushing the snow off the best I was able, I checked the location of my knives, realizing they were my only protection. I set off with great purpose in my steps returning quickly to the lodge, feeling as though I'd had perhaps a closer brush with nature than intended!

Returning to my cozy room within the lodge, I replaced the sodden wool petticoats and shortgown with a pretty polonaise gown, dressed my hair and appeared just in time for dinner and gala. Having neither escort nor dance partner, and still feeling a bit of the earlier melancholy I did not stay late into the evening. Early this morning we conducted our business affairs, I acting as proxy for Captain Wulff on behalf of Wulff's Rangers and upon conclusion of our congress, I returned home to my cabin, once more alone.