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the text for today's POD (the fog shot):
MY OWN SPECIAL MOMENT:
On our eighth night, we pulled into a tight, “it’ll-have-to-do” campsite on a jutting point just as the sun had started to set and – after hurriedly erecting our tents – ate pasta, sausage and red sauce in a quick-arriving but only half-serious rain. After quiet conversation around the campfire, we climbed exhausted into our sleeping bags to dripping trees and a sodden, soggy feel.
But when I unzipped my rain fly in the middle of the night to pee, I was surprised to see a full moon shining wickedly through the tangled pines and spruce.
The surface of lower Agnes Lake, some 10 to 12 feet below Wade’s and my tent, was obscured by thick fog that the moon’s light lacked the strength to penetrate.
The sky above was clear, however.
To the east Orion was clearly visible for the first time this trip, his sword, shield and club towering above me. I stood transfixed, feeling kinship to a constellation that – because it rises and sets above my deer season tent every November night – has earned its place in my soul and a permanent spot on my forearm, inked years ago by my son.
Many a night in Bracken County, Ky., over the last two decades I have gazed for long moments upon Orion, immobilized by a curiosity that transcends space and time and makes me ponder ancestors who no doubt witnessed the same 23 stars. While my mind always wanders back, did theirs move forward? And, if so, do our thoughts slide past each other or collide head on?
On this night, some thousand miles north, I again thought of them, and with the familiar musings, I felt the pull of home.
I stood there, oblivious to the chill but feeling the calming stillness.
To my wonderment a meteor suddenly appeared, with a tail, and it aimed itself straight toward the stars of the hunter’s belt.
The timing, the unexpectedness, the rarity – it couldn’t be a coincidence. I knew it. It wasn’t accidental. I felt like the gifted recipient of a private message, and I felt ownership of the moment. It was mine to savor, if not understand. …
… in the morning, when I woke, the fog as seen in this image had already started to burn off the lake. Agnes, with all her beauty, was ready to be seen. The Quetico wilderness was ready to be appreciated for the rare resource it is, albeit an appreciation that has to be earned with sweat and physical exertion.
As for us, we were ready too, to load canoes and move on, regrettably a morning and miles closer to the border and anxiety and civilization.
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2021 - 2023 - Picture of the day - POD (cont. 29) (Read 151040 times)
