I CAN'T WRAP MY MIND AROUND IT ALL

My thoughts are a bit of a jumble this morning. I headed out to the cabin to update my blog, with glowing words and hopefully glowing photos of our Ice Cave hike yesterday. As I stepped out the door and proceeded down the path to my cabin, I was confronted with this icy, treacherous path. I slipped, and thought surely this is one of the ugly manifestations of winter's end.

(I have been trying to craft a poem that captures the beauty of winter and the ugliness exposed upon its drawn-out passing, and though I will most likely continue my efforts, Japan dominates my mind even more so than plight of collective bargaining in Wisconsin and all it entails.)

...the morning crust/afternoon mud path to the cabin...

...one has to be thoughtful with every step...

and though my thoughts were of how to step safely, they turned to the utter banality of my problems, (the prospect of bruises or at worst broken bones) as I thought about Japan. The wish I recognize inside were that I could go to Japan physically, and exert myself, hard and long, to help someone, anyone in need. I despair because this is not possible, and all I can do is send dollars. Yes, I know dollars are needed, and will offer probably more help then I could do myself, but it seems too easy, Mastercarding dollars. I want to hurt with my giving, suffer sore muscles and sweat in exertion and know I've made a difference, however small. Still, it is money I will send.

The beauty of our hike yesterday has not paled, but its significance perhaps has. It was a stunning late winter day, brilliant sun, diamond snow, and ice caves aglow.

A picture of the winter woods, which I had intended to use to illustrate a poem I have written about the winter woods, ...and though it seems frivolous at this point, it follows (it was written about a much colder winter day):

The Winter Woods

Stark and bare
nature honed down
unveiled beauty
distinct;
a leaf upon the snow
alone
and brown
the contrast sharp
caught electric
in a momentary master work;
a multitude of minute pine cones
blooming
like tiny winter roses
scattered on the snow;
with every step
a different image framed
by barren branches
each a rhythm stilled,
caught in visual melody.

And I
dead inside the center
of this masterpiece
surrounded by the brush strokes
of some greater God
am also stroked in beauty everlasting.
Were the trees
and branches
the rocks and steep inclines
prone to whisper words
to one another
perhaps they'd say
how beautiful she stood
within our frame.

Somehow
I, too, am honed
keen and crisp,
unessential inner baggage
frozen brittle
dropped free,
and I,
whittled thin
by winter's penetrating sting,
am razor sharp
skate-bladed shoulders
slice the air
quick and clean
as I slash my way between
fragile frozen molecules
hanging everywhere.

I feel myself like steel
hard
and resolute
wrought down
like anthracite I burn inside
white and hot and real
the pinnacle of opposites am I
as the bitter cold ignites my flame
I crystallize like frost
am consumed
and lost
absorbed into the other side
of sight
whiteout blinded
into winter's being.

This ice cave is smack in the 'middle' of what used to be, long ago and before the Dam Project, Freddie's great-grandpa Enos Daines' land. I could not help but feel Enos' presence all around us, as we hiked his land.

March is the perfect time to explore the ice caves as the drip of melting/freezing snow builds them up as it melts them down.

This form seemed almost human to me...perhaps Great grandpa Enos spirit lingering near.

The utter beauty of yesterday does not dim, but rather accentuates the pictures that are emerging from Japan. I find it difficult to drag my thoughts away and to proceed with my day, but of course, I will.

My life a wonder of gifts I wish I could share.