You wonder about the story of our lives here in the Upper Peninsula?
It could be summed up in two words: Ice melts.
Ice melts on the bays.
Ice turns blue, shaky, unstable.
Don’t walk on it.
Turn, instead, toward Spring.
We’re sure it’s coming.
It might even be here.
On my way to town this weekend I paused at Second Sand Beach, and later along the Keweenaw Bay, here and there, snapping pictures of the melting ice.
I love its subtle patterns.
Nature reveals pattern after pattern in line, shadow, scope.
She wows you, even when you’re dreaming of Spring and part of you wants the ice to drown in the bay, now.
There’s a freedom in simply allowing nature to express what she wants to express.
If she wants Winter in May–can we relax into that possibility without wanting something different?
(OK, OK, maybe we can’t at times. But at times we can. My favorite activity these days–bar none–is watching the snow drifts melt. I pick a snow drift to watch every day. And melt they do. It’s fascinating entertainment.)
It feels like my freedom comes when I accept *what is*. Even if that acceptance involves resistance.
Is it spring in your neck of the woods? Or are you still courting Winter, still allowing her to exist while also longing for warm breezes, spring wildflowers, morel mushrooms?