To paraphrase Ratty from Wind in the Willows, “nothing is so fine as messing about on snowshoes.” Rob logged our walk on a GPS. As we were packing up, he check and the results had us both laughing hard:
2.95 miles travelled in 1-1/2 hours moving time with 2-1/2+ hours stopped time. A good ratio for a couple of photographers.
I enjoyed reading a poem, “Aimless Love,” by Billy Collins on Altoon Sultan fine blog this morning. This is the part that rings so true after my time at Green River:
But my heart is always propped up
in a field on its tripod,
ready for the next arrow.
These “arrows,” among many, hit their mark during my walk:
A leaf of American Beech (Fagus grandifolia) embedded in the snow. Beech often keeps its many of its leaves right up until new ones arrive in May.
Sun and shadow across the hillside paint large swaths of light on the finery of bare branches.
There are few, if any, places left on the planet where, for better or worse, “the world” does not intrude. The din of highway noise, repulsive perfumes spewed from clothes dryers, the migraine of electric lights washing the night sky, or contrails—yes, I love to fly—crisscrossing an otherwise blue sky. As Rob and I were bemoaning this latter, I realized the sun was casting a shadow of one contrail on lower, diffuse clouds and the criss-cross and interplay suddenly seemed graphically interesting.
A mess of contrails in an otherwise gorgeous sky suddenly became interesting.
More GRR photographs tomorrow.
Still Learning To See 