The Falls, again so lonely.
Where is it falling,
Just a little lonely compared to the last time
With so many feet running every which direction
And just a little shinier in the early evening light
And a whole lot colder with the falls’ water freezing making it all slide a bit more,
and what …
What a view
to the light
and the person of hope.
With trees leaning into the future.
Out on the flats, the spring snow covers what was bare most of the winter and the skiing is smooth, not so cold and wonderfully sunny.
Then the sky clouds over with billows and pillows and I’m without my camera.
The view is too large to capture, but with stitching it comes together, but the lines are evidence the cell phone is not up to the job of careful stitching.
Just to be sure of a somewhat good photo, the sky as much as possible is captured without stitching.
The sky, my dear the sky, is alive with all that can be.
It is only a few who are missing out on the joy.
Small towns, big ideas, great hopes, reality is narrow.
Simple Spring Snow
As the heavens poured out the white, winter, down-duvet-split-open-softness on to our heads and campsite and woods the colours and light danced so quietly
as my boots crunched, the water gurgled and Karin’s beer spray protected us all from invisible rye and malt humour.
There are a few children missing, but nothing more than what is being done can be done. So pray with us, for us, for them.
There are views of life that are so subtly similar, yet a step to the right, left or ahead provide a completely different perspective, seeing in through the cracks that are in everything the light that is Grace and Hope.
The Trees, alive with light on the walk out of the warmth into the wilderness.
Water the source of life, the wonder of life, the beauty of life. Green. Why?
Not because it’s cold, but because it is not cold enough to keep the glaciers from melting.
Glowing, white streams in the green of gorgeous. Can you see it here, too?
The River looking onto it from various points, perspective that changes light and subject, all the same yet completely different.
Turtles, of the snacking kind were at the table the night before, and here they appear again, a bit molded and quiet, looking not to be eaten anymore.
The soft look of fallen snow and fog on the mountains beyond the river.
Rocks … below and …
Rocks below … and …
Rocks beyond …
The River Upstream
More turtles and …
Rocks and …
Rocks and …
Rocks and …
Rocks … until …
There are no more rocks in view as one looks downstream to Pyramid Mountain.
The path back to coffee and breakfast.
As the snow hangs tight but loosened by melting, waffles wait with syrup from trees and butter enough.
The light and the drips of water frozen in place the evening before.
The Pine trees up-close, frozen mid-drip.
Moon Crescent cannot illuminate nor focus one’s soul, but it can let you know there are obstacles everywhere,
The obstacles are not always threatening, but frame a view of beauty.
You have not really lived until out your door, having slept in the warmth of a bed covered with a luxurious duvet, you can watch the sun rise over the ice.
Nothing of a Fool’s Day took hold this day.
The expanse of light reflecting ice tracks under the wedge of broken clouds held one in awe, that this light was available all around.
And then this is truly all around.
Skiing is a bit of work to find the right place, but they are numerous near Cold Lake. There are a few people who would love to see this with us, but they are busy, so out we go to enjoy the day by ourselves.
Nestled under the pines, it is quiet and warm under a bright March sun.
We take a break to go skiing, what else is Spring Break for?
Across the Lake we take a short break. Nature’s wonders provided by man-made structures.
The Lakeview is marvelous.
Most spectacular in panorama.
One really needs a 20’screen to appreciate the whole view.
Mystical Morning Matters
There are moments that become available just because one seeks some fresh air for a night.
The landmarks stay the same, the fog and light shift as the sunrises.
And it is just outside our door, because we can haul the front door around behind the truck, along with a bed, table, stove, fridge and even a kitchen sink. A bit much for a guy who loved backpacking into the outback where no one else ventured to disturb a good night’s rest. Now we haul a toilet and electricity with us, not least of all to power a 27 inch screen to edit photos on.
Luxury. Well it may easily become my home permanently, so not really, not at -40° and +35° C.
It is officially Spring, but tell that to the snow of a foot in the last quiet day.
It started to fall nice and softly, on and off for more than a day it fell without a blush of thunder or despair. Just fell one little inch at a time, until it recovered the ground cleared pretty well for the crocuses to bloom.
I’ve yet to find a hillside of them here, and now the snow would have covered them another few days from reappearing.
But off where few people travel we found a place to bask in the mosquito-less lake front.
After hours of shovelling to get into a place out of the way enough to stay a day, and a rest for recovery, the sun appeared bright and warm, unexpected and not for long.
The sky came alive.
Previous visitors left Olaf’s cousin to fend for himself, and Kathie decided to level him starting with his all too small head. So after reconstructive surgery with the elements at hand, Olaf’s cousin Otto stands against the trees, leaning on a borrowed staff,
Otto, Olaf’s Cousin
And asking if he’ll have eyes to see with again, and a nose to delight in at all.
Out on her own walking the ice, Kathie’s glove has a life of its own as she bares her hands to take a call.
There is life out here, even after the snow, traipsing around, leaving tracks, knowing the empty table is useless until its filled with a feast for ants and visitors of all kinds.
Across the water the evidence of beaver new and long since given their best effort to fell a tree from beneath. Seems to me the beaver survived only because he was not successful.