29 August 2007 Day Ten

Chippewa Harbor to Lake Richie Trail

It rained last night and the sun rose into a cloudless sky. I am lying on a boardwalk through the marsh. With my yellow deck bag as a pillow, I am in a position to effortlessly watch three different species of warblers, dragon flies and two woodpeckers obligingly twurtle, chirp, and fly into the branches directly overhead. A blue jay arrives to find out what the fuss is about. This simple beauty is the greatest blessing and most lovely moment of my life.

I want my ashes sprinkled here, as if my ashes being here would allow me to hold on to what I loved best; allow me to hold onto a cooling breeze; bare rock and three-inch deep moss. The sound of wind as it approaches and then moves on; waves of wind separated by stillness. Holding on is illusion; the truth and the preciousness is that I must move on. Even if I could stay, the sun would move, the wind would change, this verdant green would transform to a chilling white.

P.S. Straightening the shelter this morning, the headlamp was on the flood by my sleeping bag.