not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Friday, February 3, 2012

the frozen swamp



8 comments:

  1. it hovers as if it's creating a form to accentiate the formlessness around it . . . steven

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  2. I wander amidst frozen swamps daily. This one is a bit more open.

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  3. the trees sharpen themselves against the cold sky

    think how much life is under the surface, breathing too slowly to hear ... think how it will burst into the air, soon :-)

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  4. steven, yes! yes! can you imagine. sometimes, with all of our wondering, all we have to do is drive out to the middle of nowhere (very somewhere) and sit. it says it all. who needs us?

    ollie, it is a long way up a neighboring logging road. i drove up to park and run out where no one else would be. turns out i succeeded. i took photos of the wolf tracks that i ran alongside of, as well. it was exhilarating and unnerving.

    laura, it is an amazing place, all seasons.

    thank you, csj. welcome.

    james, when i listen to this place i almost hear a murmur which is almost silence but yet is a symphony. i feel that if i could manage to be still enough and lay my hand upon the chest of this place, i might feel the heartbeat and know something worthy.

    how lucky i am, to experience these places, astounds me.

    xo
    erin

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  5. I can feel the emotion, feel the cold on my skin and was blown away by the tread of the wolf. An absolutely wonderful place.
    A hug.

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  6. damaso, it is an incredible place! but i tremble even now to think of my proximity to whatever it was out in the woods where he belonged. i just e-mailed my mother a photo of the tracks (my poor mother) and she e-mailed me back. in her opinion it was no wolf. the tracks were much too big and round. in her opinion, despite there being an open and active debate in these regions, it was a cougar. i don't know which i would fear more, but i respect them both equally and i am so grateful that we shared such a moment in such a place.

    xo
    erin

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"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))