When you believe in things
that you don't understand,
then you suffer:
superstition ain't the way!
Stevie has always had a wonderful way of saying things. Not bad for a 22-year-old.
So here I am on Friday the 13th, walking around the island in very crisp temperatures, bundled up in hat, scarf and gloves. The first thing I encounter are a couple of what seem to be city employees with a small steam shovel (is that the right term?) and a dump truck (is that the right term?), engaged in some sort of deforestation efforts along the island's eastern shore. I stood and watched for a few minutes and duly recorded their activities:
Perhaps this day of superstition is a bad one for the island's limited supply of trees, and for those of us who enjoy the natural beauty they provide? But no, I think not. I believe these civil servants are merely collecting the trees and tree parts which have fallen of their own accord or at the strong hand of the elements, and which have lay littering (or ornamenting) the shoreline.
I must say that this scattered timber has not offended my sensibilities in the least, but rather has provided some variegation and character to the shoreline, while providing me with some climbing and dexterity challenges while poking along the shore. But that's okay, I guess. If too much of this detritus builds up, it could really render the shoreline entirely unnavigable, which would be a shame.
My observations of the past four months has shown me that few people besides myself fancy stumbling along the shore, at least at this time of year. Again, that's okay with me. I am still continually amazed at the degree of solitude I find at my disposal, here on this sylvan oasis with skyscrapers in clear view. I continue on my way and leave the civil servants to their timber and brush clearing activities.
As I reach the western side of the island, I notice the frozen character the river has assumed over the past few days. Indeed, here in Minnesota it doesn't take long for the icy hand of winter to make an impression on the landscape and the inhabitants.
Here is what the mighty Mississippi looks like now, as I gawk at it from above, handling my camera with fingers already smarting from the cold, though they've been denuded for only seconds. The freezing river and the fallen tree limbs make me think of the ways in which nature has its way with the earth, leaving us to clean up the mess or simply live with it. The earth and its climactic character compels our industry, refusing to let us sit idle for long. Trees fall, we clean up their remains. Rivers freeze, we navigate around them and wait for the thaw. Tornados, hurricanes, tsunamis and earthquakes inflict damage--we clear the debris, bury the dead, and rebuild. Maybe this is as it should be. I don't think anyone can claim it is not in the natural order of things, not the way--in accordance with the laws of its character--our universe functions, and the way that we, if we value life, must function in response.
Life flows on, in and around us--sometimes upsetting apple carts that we must then rebuild and restock--savoring the apples when we can.
D.E.S.
that you don't understand,
then you suffer:
superstition ain't the way!
Stevie has always had a wonderful way of saying things. Not bad for a 22-year-old.
So here I am on Friday the 13th, walking around the island in very crisp temperatures, bundled up in hat, scarf and gloves. The first thing I encounter are a couple of what seem to be city employees with a small steam shovel (is that the right term?) and a dump truck (is that the right term?), engaged in some sort of deforestation efforts along the island's eastern shore. I stood and watched for a few minutes and duly recorded their activities:
Perhaps this day of superstition is a bad one for the island's limited supply of trees, and for those of us who enjoy the natural beauty they provide? But no, I think not. I believe these civil servants are merely collecting the trees and tree parts which have fallen of their own accord or at the strong hand of the elements, and which have lay littering (or ornamenting) the shoreline.
I must say that this scattered timber has not offended my sensibilities in the least, but rather has provided some variegation and character to the shoreline, while providing me with some climbing and dexterity challenges while poking along the shore. But that's okay, I guess. If too much of this detritus builds up, it could really render the shoreline entirely unnavigable, which would be a shame.My observations of the past four months has shown me that few people besides myself fancy stumbling along the shore, at least at this time of year. Again, that's okay with me. I am still continually amazed at the degree of solitude I find at my disposal, here on this sylvan oasis with skyscrapers in clear view. I continue on my way and leave the civil servants to their timber and brush clearing activities.
As I reach the western side of the island, I notice the frozen character the river has assumed over the past few days. Indeed, here in Minnesota it doesn't take long for the icy hand of winter to make an impression on the landscape and the inhabitants.
Here is what the mighty Mississippi looks like now, as I gawk at it from above, handling my camera with fingers already smarting from the cold, though they've been denuded for only seconds. The freezing river and the fallen tree limbs make me think of the ways in which nature has its way with the earth, leaving us to clean up the mess or simply live with it. The earth and its climactic character compels our industry, refusing to let us sit idle for long. Trees fall, we clean up their remains. Rivers freeze, we navigate around them and wait for the thaw. Tornados, hurricanes, tsunamis and earthquakes inflict damage--we clear the debris, bury the dead, and rebuild. Maybe this is as it should be. I don't think anyone can claim it is not in the natural order of things, not the way--in accordance with the laws of its character--our universe functions, and the way that we, if we value life, must function in response.Life flows on, in and around us--sometimes upsetting apple carts that we must then rebuild and restock--savoring the apples when we can.
D.E.S.
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