Life in a Northern Town

Follow The Water

The snow is almost gone, the ice road is defunct and tender greenery is emerging from the earth. Spring sprung quickly this year and while it's been cold for the past couple of days, the sun is warm and the ground is softening. Bayview Beach is still solid ice and I wanted to hear and see some moving water. Will, Charlie, George and I settled on Lost Creek Falls as our Saturday destination and there was a nice mix of water, frozen and liquid, that kept us entertained as we followed the path to the Falls.

Texture, shapes and shadows were the name of the game on the path. We did our best to avoid stepping in the frozen puddles, the ice froze in intricate patterns, and we wanted to preserve them for anyone else who ventured out on a chilly Saturday.

Standing by the falls, with the spray hitting my face, I felt spring. I mean really felt spring—  felt the water shaking off its winter lethargy, felt the remaining ice surrender to the flow, felt the energy moving up from deep in the Earth into a red pine on the banks. The sound echoed in my ears, beloved and familiar.

Spring has never been my favorite season. Between the kids and dogs...spring rain and mud creates a disaster zone on my kitchen floor that requires either hourly sweeping or surrender (socks help a lot when I choose the surrender path). But this year, it's different— there is something about the transitions that's calling out to me. Ice amidst flowing water, ferns growing alongside snow, moss littered with frozen droplets of water....winter gives way to spring and for a short time they co-exist in shades of white and green.

Lost Creek Falls was running and tumbling, exactly what we were hoping to see. More rushing water, ice and mist.....spring imagined as a waterfall.

Water is magical to me. It moves, flows, sustains, erodes, jumps, crashes and rolls over and through our world; common and miraculous at the same time. We are the lucky ones, the ones who get to call this place home. A place with water so clear it freezes into crystal balls, so plentiful it runs year-round into Lake Superior and so resolute it holds an entire ecosystem in its embrace. We are the One Percent.