Dark overcast and forty degrees this morning, could be a winter day in Pasadena. On an average November 24th, I’d be walking to Ranier in twelve degrees, and the ground would be hard under a foot of snow. Construction workers would be erecting the new Voyageurs National Park Headquarters, thickly dressed, but dry. Today, they slop about in mud under light rain.
Water in Rainy Lake (properly named today) is dark slate in color and polished to a shiny mirror in calm air between drizzles. Like the pupil of an eye, it sees these leaning trees above and transmits images. No matter that it has no brain to interpret, no imagination; neither does an eye. The Northern Pike behind its surface know; their view is clear today, and floating prey know too and stay away. Things reflected on the water, on the art, on the page the papermill made and the poet thought—these the eye and water give to fish and bird and all who think.How do you feed a paper-mill the wood chips it needs to keep going? The same way you feed corn chips to children—upend the box and pour them in a bowl. Or back your loaded truck into the slot and stand back while a machine turns it up on end.
Ranier is a fine little village just three miles east. Its waterfront is lined with cabins, rental cottages, houses and boat docks. There’s only one café here and no stores except a liquor store. There is a nice bike path connecting the village to International Falls; I expect it to become a fine Nordic skiing path. Today I came and ate and took pictures and listened to more talk about the fine weather.
I love your vision of the eye... and water... and what they give to the poet. Beautifully written and felt... it is very mysterious this time right now, it's different, being the people there, and having weather that is lovely for them, and being you, expecting what is different and finding it not too far off what is home... except for us friends and poets being so far away, and busy with our lives we wish you were included in... And yet the air of waiting, know there will be a dramatic change and you must choose to stand somehwere before it becomes hard to move... the snow will build a wall around you where you make your home. No, it's true, you'll ski across it, skate free... I am glad you're in a place where you love the owners and is comfortable... imagining you living on the lake, but without a store and only one cafe, and a liquor store... Tara's looks pretty for the summer, but maybe pretty dramatic for the winter?
ReplyDeleteIt’s a mysterious time right now, as you say, unexpected, and could be frustration if I let it. I could have a day like today as well in Pasadena as in the “Icebox of the Nation,” and if I’d stayed at home, might also enjoy some meeting of friends and good times in the living room gallery. They say that if the unseasonable warm continues until Monday, it will be a record. And I am the only complainer.
ReplyDeleteYou are not alone in saying there will be “a dramatic change.” I am holed up and secure I think, ready for it, waiting. In this warm waiting time, I will explore Canada again tomorrow, moving west along the river, just to explore. This nice weather allows me to learn where and where not to go in bad weather, to learn the way home, where to get warm, and gives time to listen to the ones who have done it before. If I’d come in a blizzard it would have been harder.
Ooo! The whole truck goes up! Me likey! ........Meanwhile, we're thawing out from our trip to Yosemite. Plenty cold there, with lots of ice on the ground. Snow only at the higher elevations right now.
ReplyDeleteHappy thawing. I too am thawing from a bike ride. Hey, might as well--no snow.
ReplyDeleteHow far of a walk is it from your house over to Ranier, 3 miles I would guess is about 40 minutes or so...
ReplyDeleteYes, Michael it’s about three miles, an hour’s walk unless you keep darting after some bird or leaf, hopping about like a kid.
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