|trillium in bloom|
Once again, it's time to let pictures take the place of words in announcing the arrival of Spring in our North Country. I wonder if any of the drivers, or their passengers, noticed the beauty they were passing by as I was taking these. I hope they did and fear otherwise. To be special, a place needn't be far distant or spectacular in a grandiose fashion. If we are attentive, often we find we're surrounded by quietly spectacular beauty. Wildflowers in bloom are obvious. Hosts of angels surrounding us, not so much. Trillium and trout lilies and spring beauties are there even after we've stopped noticing their blooms. What about angels?
|Virginia Spring beauty|
|white trout lilies|
One final note for today, goslings have started to hatch. If you look carefully in the center between goose and gander, you can spot several balls of yellow fluff, paddling merrily to keep up.
|season's first goslings|
Leave No Trace
No gate, no main entrance, no ticket, no ranger. Not far
From where Frost once raised chickens and ill-fated children, near
Where the Old Man’s glacier-hewn face though bolstered to
Its godlike roost by rods and turnbuckles slid
From our fledgling millennium into oblivion,
You can cross the Pemigewasset on a bridge
Then, compass-north but southbound on the trail,
Ascend an old grassed-over logging road
To the carved out collarbone of Cannon Mountain.
This is Lonesome Lake. How you go from here
Depends on why you’ve come: to out a spruce grouse
Or listen for the whee-ah of a Bicknell’s thrush;
For a breezy picnic or a midlife crisis,
A long haul or a day trip to the cascades.
Bring for your purposes only what you need:
Salmon jerky, a canteen or Camelbak,
Band-aids, a ratchet and strap, a roughed-up heart.
Bring sunblock, a notebook, the Beatles, Beyoncé,
The Bhagavad Gita, a Bible, some Hitchens or Hegel.
However long you stay you must leave nothing.
No matchbox, no pole-tip, no grommet, no cup.
Carry in and out your Clif Bar wrappers,
Your fear of bears and storms. Keep the rage
You thought you’d push through your boot-soles into the stones,
The grief you hoped to shed. If you think you’ve changed,
Take all your changes with you.
If you lift
An arrowhead from the leaves, return it. Pocket
No pinecone, no pebble or faery root. Resist
The painted trillium even if its purple throat
Begs to be pressed between your trail guide’s pages.
Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.