A new year, brings a new website. Superior Expeditions is in the process of a new design.
Here is a sneak preview – http://www.superior-expeditions.org/alpha/
A late happy new year. Time was spent along Lake Superior within 15 to 25 below temperatures. Snowshoeing under a perfect, cold blue sky. The snow squeaked under foot. The full moon that rose in the evening was a sight from heaven.
Photos will be posted soon at http://www.superior-expeditions.org
As the year is coming to a close, the heavy thoughts build on top of each other and the reflection back on the experiences and decisions, begs for a break, begs to step away from this for awhile. Too much…. too much information, too much angst and pain. How to shield the eyes, cover with a blindfold, turn and run, run fast, in any direction, looking for an escape.
The northern water and landscape is calling me with a low murmur, the static of water crashing, and the morning sunset over the frozen shoreline. So calm and peaceful the morning light becomes.
A desire for simplicity, a return to our roots and the instincts we subdue in order to survive in the world we ourselves have had a part in creating, even with intentions otherwise, the collective had other ideas.
A return to the basics of nature and survival, the daily tasks that have a purpose, and each purpose feeds another purpose, and the day is defined by what we are willing to give and willing to sacrifice.
The mind is heavy with thoughts as the snow fall ends and we are left with the aftermath, the heavy blanket across the land, the frozen flowers and trees, and the rabbit’s track at the front door. So simple, so beautiful.
The sun is still sleeping as we rise and to see the snow covered trees frozen in their dance.
Christmas eve and nature reminds us of its power to quiet and slow down the hectic pace.
Where is the orchestra that plays a lonely song under the midnight sun sinking into the arctic ocean?
The rain falls into ice into snow and upon the ground the earth dissappears into an endless horizon of white and the static leaves for now.
How much time passes, how many miles of field do we cross, before noticing the footsteps leave no prints upon the snow?
Music touches a nerve that I cannot name, that I fail to understand. So, I give in to the emotion and I write.