Today, after work, I seized the sunshiny day and went for a stroll, whereupon I came upon this Norman Rockwell scene on the northwestern end of the island. It appeared to be a father and his sons, fishing off a log in the Mississippi. It made me think of my own boys and wish that they were here to do likewise. Not that I've ever been the angling type. But who could resist this setting?This kind of setting is my solace when returning from the cubicle and conference room ensconced world of corporate gamesmanship, where a matter like charging services to the correct cost center or achieving fully documented Sarbanes-Oxley compliance can be made to feel like matters of life and death. Then I return to the island, amongst earth and trees and sky, where the river flows grandly between its banks as it has for centuries, and the geese loiter in pairs while a homeless man kicks a crushed can along the cobblestone street. Each of these worlds may be real, but which is more real, which of them has the greater power to quicken my blood and gladden my eye?
Don't answer! Instead, admire the flowers of spring that greeted me next along my stroll. You can't grow these in a cubicle. And this is just the beginning! I can hardly wait to savor the wealth of beauty that the coming spring and summer have in store. When was the last time YOU stopped to smell the flowers, or just to drink in their colors? It's not too late to recapture the simple pleasures you may too hastily have relegated to the world of memory.
Here, while crossing the Merriam Street Bridge, my eye was drawn upward, where it discerned beauty in something wrought by the hand of Man, rather than that of Mother Nature. For Man must also be given his due, after all, and I am always happy to praise what Man has created, if only to steal attention away from all He has destroyed. Even better that my chosen subject is a lamp—something that supplies light rather than darkness. The discolored metal, the half-moon fringed crown, the dirt on the inside of the glass, and the criss-crossing metalwork in the background—all of these things make this one of my favorite images of today's post.
Now venture down St. Anthony Main with me and check out the Nice Rides supplied by the City of Minneapolis. They put the bikes out this past weekend, and if that's not another sure sign that spring has arrived, I don't know what is. This is a great program, and just one of the many things that make Minneapolis a great city, for natives and visitors alike. Just grab a bike, swipe your credit card, and away you go on any of the many scenic bike paths that snake through the city in all directions. You don't even have to return the bike to the place where you got it—just leave it at any of the bike racks located all throughout the city. My companion and I have all but decided to sell our own bikes and support this great program instead.
About ten paces away from the bikes, I mounted the stone spiral staircase next to the St. Anthony Main Movie Theater, and climbed to the east side of the Central Avenue Bridge, where I looked over the side and snapped this shot. There's something special about it to me, capturing the light in a unique way that says evening is about to fall on the island across that water, where I live.
A few steps farther along the bridge and I couldn't resist shooting toward the sun into this veil of foliage. This photo says something that cannot be put into words. It is something like life and joy and excitement and fire all balled up together and thrown into the sky, just so some idle wanderer like me could come along and get caught in its wondrous web. Shazam!
A good look up deserves a good look down to balance the world out. Standing in the same place, I simply tipped my head and snapped this one of the shoreline jutting out like a large nose the better to sniff out the river's essence, while the foliage dangles above like a parasol woven from the stuff of Spring. Someday this summer I'll sit on that shore with a good book, and make time stop.
The sun demanded I raise my sights and take this one, and I'm glad I obeyed. The sun is slow to retire for the night, as am I. And yet, the time that remains to me by the time I get home from work, before I must retire for the night, is regrettably brief. I resent the working life, and yet it is necessary, and provides what I need. And so there is nothing to do except savor every moment in which I am free to do as I please.
What pleases me at this moment is the vision of Nicollet Island you see reflected in the river, where the inlet swings around to embrace the shoreline. Why am I so fortunate, I wonder, to be privy to such beauty, to be lucky enough to live here, where I am not targeted by bullets or famine or disease, where life is easy and freedom surrounds me like air. I've gotten so spoiled that I'm not happy unless I can fill my lungs.
Well, there I am with a lungful, and don't I look self-satisfied? Why not? I'm alive, healthy, and the sun is shining. I am where I am by sheer happenstance, dumb luck. The things I have and enjoy owe nothing to my own actions or interventions—at least not in the big picture. I might have been born into slavery, or into a famine-stricken or war-torn land, or as a mosquito with a 24-hour life span (maybe a bit longer here in Minnesota), but I was born in Canada and grew up in America and have been luckier than most of the human beings who have ever lived. Like everyone else, I won't be around for long. But today I'm here, and while I'm here, I'll follow the sun.Life flows on, in and around us—drink it in, bask in it, and know it well—it is yours, here and now, as deep and rich and fine as you make it.
D.E.S.
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