northern spring awakening 2

April 29

On Sunday, I attended a church where the stations of the earth are being prayed and the wonders of evolution are being celebrated ( yes ), then drove into the park to thickly ice-and-snow covered lakes where the north winds blew cold. We saw several die hard fisherman out ice fishing for the opening of trout season. Farther upstream, however, the shallow creek was flowing wide and fast, the beavers busily out and about as we took our Sunday picnic on her banks, protected from the wind, on sun warmed rocks.
Yesterday, the temperatures stretched to reach 65 degrees, the ice on our south facing shore pulling away a few feet from that reach. I sat with my afternoon tea, for an hour or so after the day’s chores we’re done, late in the day and could almost see and hear its aquiescence. My friend promises she’ll paddle that narrow shoreline channel for the few hundred feet that it is open along the edge today, although in some places it is barely wide enough for her kayak. Diehards seem to thrive here.
The flickers have awakened me the last two mornings, their squeeky toy chatters when they come together a humorous contrast to the way they find the loudest thing to drum upon ( metal chimneys and electricity transformer oxes) to show off. The morning air flowing in the cracked open window is nippy on my nose (@25 degrees), but the morning chorus warms me, nonetheless. Time to put a log in the fire.
Oh sweet Canada.

May 1

At the end of the day’s chores, I sit in silence at the waters edge. The sun is high and warm, the wind almost tropical, except for the coolness it lifts from the ice. Closing my eyes, I feel the wind tease the loose strands from my working hair knot. Listening deeply it seems that the rhythm of the wind’s gusting and receding is the breath of Earth, and I fall into that rising and falling with her.

I think about the question my friend has asked me, “How did your landscape form you?” though I still cannot answer. She really wants to know my growing up landscape, the one that surely must have created in me this deep love of the Earth and the Water in this place.

I once heard a young woman describe what it was like for her to fall in love with a woman after many empty attempts at heterosexual relationships… how everything suddenly fell into place, as if she’d at last discovered what had been missing. She described it as something like the gnawing feeling you have when you know you’ve misplaced something but can’t recall what it is or even be certain whether you’ve actually lost something at all or might just be lost yourself. How it is that when you stumble upon it you finally remember who you are. Ah.

That’s the best answer I can give to her question, vague as it is. That when I found this place, it was like something missing in me was found and returned to me. How this particularly shaped hole formed in me, I cannot say. It is a mystery of belonging too deep for my words or my understanding.

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