Waking to Rainbows
The night is come swift
Leaving only the north
Cloud swathed and light twinged
Reminding us all of the persistence of
The basic building block of love
To hang out there
If not present powerfully
Then as wisps of remainder light
Enveloping even the deep darkest
Life lived so partially
Afraid to offend.
Bursting rather vivaciously
To keep us ever northbound oriented
Dancing an easy waltz so elegant.
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 Light Delight
Leonard Cohen wrote and sang that it was cracks through which the light got it.
The bright moon between the pines demonstrate also that in the darkness even a dim light can be bright. Moral: surround yourself by bright people, who inspire you to be even brighter yet; same for wise, kind, compassionate, empathetic and caring people. It helps also to surround yourself, not exclusively by people recovering, also from addictions, for in that struggle to stay alive they identify the essentials of life: air, water, food, clothing, shelter, meaningful labour, and love (given and received, unconditionally!)
In this darkness I experienced the joy and struggles of getting the technology to do what I intended: I was pushing the capabilities of the camera and getting also mixed results between the ones that are reasonably okay.
Enjoy the dark and the second light:
The moon, the second light, the light of the dark hours, but only for part of each month.
It’s like second chances: it’s not quite like the first light/chance; but when it works out, the beauty/joy is amazing.
Turning just a bit and waiting and shooting again sometimes nets another, if not better, also beautiful, worth contemplating photo.
The perspective one takes changes the outcome, dramatically.
In the end, the view is just marvelous, and hauntingly so.
River in the Mountains
The River is far enough behind the trees that we neither heard the water, nor could we reach the water without little hike through the trees, down the hill and then over and down the bank of the river. Then across the rocks and ice to see the water up close.
The water running catching light in swells.
Rocks Clouds in the Valley
Downstream the river provides a great foreground framed with trees on the shore pointing to Pyramid Mountain.
Rocks to Pyramid with Trees
Of course there are numerous ways to see the view and put it into a photo.
Rocks to Pyramid
While we park the view is not of other trailers, nor the mountains clear across the open parking lot. Instead we were in the quiet of the trees, with between them a view even to the tram.
Trailer beneath the Tram
Look to the upper right through the trees, there’s the tram.
Tram on the Mountain
Trees Air & Crowds Starting
Back in Wapiti outside Jasper, now that there is less snow and more mud, the trees show signs of life, the air is fresh as ever and the rain starts … when clouds cover the mountains one can duck and run or get wet.
In the winter, one just enjoys the snow falling, and stays warm.
The river flows green, cool and true.
The river with Mountains in the background.
The Clouds in the early Morning.
The news is the Tram is open, though I think it may require crampons to climb to the top through the snow and ice.
As always the woods and the river are filled with paths and inviting hours of walking or shooting or watching or sitting in wonder at the Grace so plainly set before one … in one’s solitude. Even the view out the window is remarkably refreshing.
But one has to realize that with the lack of frigid temperatures the crowds have gathered and what was once solitude is a busy metropolitan gathering. Where we parked alone or with one or two a whole passel of RV’s had gathered, and even out the south end the crowds of one and two have gathered, so that on every leg there is at least a tent or two.
We stopped to kibitz with two sitting for breakfast early on our walk about the entire open camp sites. Which means that we just cannot be alone any longer in solitude. Which is so great for me, the extrovert …
But I, remarkably so, still enjoy meeting people and sharing stories with them.
Two doctors who’d been to Tanzania and two teachers from NWT were last evening’s visit into the late evening.
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.