Singing Waters, Talking Trees.

 

    Spring is unfolding slowly along the river and my beloved Prince Edward Bay, the lake effect is quite noticeable. Beloved Prince Edward Bay, this is a new expression for me, in my memory there have been above everything else the beloved hills of my childhood and later, as an adult, my beloved Georgian Bay, explored over many many years camping with my family, my children spend all their growing summer years there, and especially sailing the good ship Outrageous, a 23 foot Shark. Come to think of it, there is one more; the sacred mountains of Peru. They too have a special place in my heart with their spirits of the Apus. The entire glorious natural world is beloved to me, but there are places that are exceptional to my soul and my being.

 

    The black river is beginning to hide itself behind the unfolding green of spring; only occasionally can I see the swans in the visible patches of water.

 

    Going down to the bay has now an added significance that is bittersweet. The great lakes have their very own particular language that is unique to them. It is the singing of the typically short waves as they gently and playfully embrace the shore or excitedly trash about, giving up their white crowns, not at all pleased of the shore taking away their force and strength. Sailing the great lakes can be quite a challenge but is exhilarating under any condition but for me it is the gentle singing of the waves that now and forever transports me to the many years of sailing the Georgian Bay with Larry in the good ship Outrageous.  Larry died last month, but the singing of the waters will always bring him near.

 

    A slim finger of land jots out into the mouth of the black river with a dense growth of trees, bushes and the loveliest of wild flowers, and a marsh thick with bulrushes. The dogs and I love trekking out there, listening to the orchestra of red-winged blackbirds and the singing of the river. Its music is markedly different, longer drawn out notes; one has to listen carefully to hear it.  

 

    The music of a brook is playful, the crescendo of ocean waves stir my emotions with awe and caution. Water is my element, I would not be content living inland, but I did not grow up with an ocean, I am respectful and somewhat fearful of it.

 

    My friend Anne in Winona had invited me to cherry blossom time in her orchard, an experience that makes ones spirits soar. Anne has a long row of very tall and old fur trees standing sentinel over her house. The wind made them sing in their very own swooshing dialect, solemn and strong; reminding me once again to continue my study to learn the language of the trees.

 

    There is so much to explore here, so much to reconnect with, satisfying ancient longings, re-awakening ancient knowledge; every day is filled with joy and wonder.