Fall Weather

Laughing uproariously, it is a trickster. It wraps itself around us and tarries, not to do us harm but to bless us. To take to the woods, to scent the crispness of autumn is a delight. Its brevity only makes it a more rare and special gift. It hangs on the will of the wind and rain to take down its reds and golds. Nights are slept in soundly. There is magic to the waters. The sun-drenched trees mirror every shore. Color abounds in the hills, populates the ancient trails, rises up to the ridge lines, drenches our capacity for appreciating beauty. We wait for the first frost. It chases many away. We wonder when winter will descend. It is stolen property we trespass on. We have it all for our k

Grateful

Like mist our sense of thanks can drift away. We lose perspective. We forget we are blessed. We allow ourselves to be trampled by the ever on- going rush of living. We become consumed rather than consumers. Hearts not aware of how much we have. In its place is what we lack. Or we ever-dance to detail. Bounty unrealized. Unnoticed in the flood. Gratitude for life, Gratitude for the opportunity of choice. Gratitude for love. For the moments to love. Gratitude for times past, Gratitude for simple things. Basic things, for elemental things. For fire, food, friends. For touch, sight, hearing. For passion to care, for grief that touches on love. Oh Great Spirit, we squander away the hours, often d

Days of Brazen Color

I am glad I shall never be young without wild country to be young in. Of what avail are forty freedoms without a blank spot on the map? A Sand County Almanac Aldo Leopold The day was delirious. Fall colors from red maple, golden aspen, mixed with the muted greens of the pine. It was a day of splendor, driving the abbreviated backroads among the hills. Later the breezes would toss the leaves and scatter them, but today it was all perfect. Sometimes life can be that frenetic, too alive with glorious colors that don’t quite match our experience. It is more than “enough.” It is electric. Gazing up into the sun swelled trees, such experiences dwarf the routine days that draw summer on. Then, the

Welcomed Visitor

Chance discovery, Friend from the deep forest, Suddenly interested in our poor piece of property. For moments, Lake Superior’s vistas gone. I am captive to the attentive probings, the watchful search, the careful eye, the eager find. Boreal dwellers made visible for moments. Then gone. Their high, clear, piping Calls and drum, Mostly old forest, So rare the sightings. Red-crested glory; here, the top-of-the-vibrant and healthy food chain, The marvel of Ecosystems In balance. Gratitude for this Morning’s pause, Fully willing to Let me come close, To celebrate and share its findings And mine Together. John A Bragstad is the author of two books, principally about the Boundary Waters Canoe Area.

  • Facebook

Birch River Books

Grand Marais, MN 55604, USA

©2019 by Birch River Books.