The Turning Point

Silence and airy chill; yet the beauty lay in that feeling of noiseless wonder. Some traffic passed by, people on their way elsewhere, hoping to catch a glimpse of another painted dream beyond the mountain--the world of Prince William Sound. They moved by and vanished. I wondered how this frame of nature had escaped their minds-- Earthen tones and delicate blues in sharp relief.

I wandered on the overlook, gazing at the fine shale beach and budding shrubbery, and circling my eyes around the lake and icy hills until I had fed the images into a whole. It was more a feeling on where to see that instance of light and morning mood. Reflections appeared on the open surfaces, blending in with the floating ice and melting sheets. And within this morning mirror the darks collided with the growing light. Here was a cusp of change, when like a tide has not yet turned too much. Here was the transition point between Winter and Summer. I would have to wait again until next year to see this once again.

The Passing of Spring

The glory is all around us, in the deepest woods, or even inside the greenbelts of the city, waiting the curious eye to find. In motions of life, through the very fabric of time, are the expressions unfolded for those who wish to see. In the small things of interest we seek to name, but the very treasures are in the expressions of change, when each day brings a new awakening from the house of Nature.

The geese had gathered after a long migration through the frigid sky, guided by a road map inside themselves; not spoken or even learned, but known by the many generations who have come and gone, arrowing their way over the planet's curve. Many of these birds will not make the journey back, but others will take their places, and the species of new geese will fly the hidden track across the sky.

The Snow Line

A light mist filled the upper valley, dimming the features of the mountain peak, while behind from the sea, the sun advanced up the slopes as it broke through the clouds. The trail had recently cleared of snow, but the remnants of snow had melted here below. But as I climbed higher, the return of frozen land now crept up below my feet.

Soon the snow was deeper in the narrow ravine; each foot step sinking deeper. Only another set of feet had come here before the last snow, and the surface held my weight. Further up, I was sinking now knee deep, hip deep if I wandered too far from the path. But the mist now cleared and the sun now lit the rocky face of the mountain. Once out of the alder and ravine, I stood in the empty corridor of the avalanche chute.

Along the edges or in the hollows the snow was soft and deep. Up the chute the broken remains of avalanche formed a wall. The birthplace of this massive fall was still, yet still the possibility of more snow remained. Outwards, looking to the south were valleys, and the bay where low tide now showed the reefs. Up here the brightness of the sun and cloud shadows mixed. I drank in the view, looking along the white margins below. Then over the lip of the avalanche two dogs came up, moving at a easy pace, effortlessly floating on the surface of the snow. Others were coming to join me here in this silent place. It was easy to get up but the return downwards would be harder as the sun had softened the snow.