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:
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:
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.
More GRR photographs tomorrow.