The Peace of Wild Things

I needed to get out and recharge my very depleted batteries from the last fortnight of misfortunes. One of my favourite poems describes the sense of peace and home this morning in Grand Teton National Park.

A familiar place...

A familiar place…

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

–Wendell Berry

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The light changes so quickly.

I knew that there was going to be a lot of snow but I didn’t realize just how deep it would be. It would make travel slow-going.

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The snow bank came close to my shoulders

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The end of the plowed road and start of the snow-shoeing.

I was eager for the sun to hit me.

I was eager for the sun to hit me.

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Which it did.

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An errant side track that led to nowhere. It was one of the few spots where there was an existing track of some kind.

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I was quite interested in the touring possibilities in that gully.

Because of all the new snow, breaking trail was very tiring for me. I had to stop far far short of my original destination because I knew I had to save my left leg for the return journey back to the car, and also my lower right leg muscle was aching and I did not want to reduce the chances of skiing any further.

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My tracks.

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There was little danger of me exceeding the speed limit.

PT and orthopedic specialist appointments tomorrow – fingers crossed these will yield (fast) dividends so that I can ski.

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