No favorite season

“There is no season such delight can bring as summer,autumn, winter and the spring.”…William Browne wrote of the seasons, back somewhere in the 17th century.

I just finished reading(rereading) the Wandering through Winter by the prolific nature writer Edwin Teale https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edwin_Way_Teale.  He and his wife Nellie traveled over 20,000 miles in two decades recording their journey in the American seasons.  The revisiting of these nature journals made into Pulitzer  prize winning books that captured the majesty Americas’ natural history, has become sort of tradition with me.

Sometimes I surf the net, comparing places then and now.  One thing for sure, my own love to wander in nature was again finding Joe and I on our own late winter journey, connecting the dots to spring.

We have a short term goal of circumnavigating(by car) the coastline of Lake Superior and so a few weeks ago we set out west toward Duluth,MN and traveled up the North Shore of the big Lake.trip 032Split Rock Lighthouse…and the abundance of Birch trees, waterfalls and spectacular views are abundant and nowhere few.

trip 049From Grand Marais we ventured on Gun Flint trail and there discovered ourselves in the midst of the jack pine forest that burned in 2007 affecting  thousands of acres. trip 059trip 053Representing the resilience of life.

Gray jays were so friendly they landed on top our vehicle. trip 048and eagles were unknowingly cooperative.

trip 019From some turnouts the views nudged the heart to imagine the  infinity of Americas natural beauty.

trip 014 And then there was Canada…a border invented by humans cannot separate the natural world from itself.

We turned around in Thunder Bay, marking our spot there on Northern Lake Superior as the place we would connect with when we come from the east this year to complete the circle tour of Superior.

trip 004We followed our wanderlusting back down the center of Minnesota and returned  home by way of Wisconsin to Michigan.  trip 034And I will agree with With William Brown when, in his prose he cannot seem to name a favorite season.  The next one reveals itself to us in each new bird song, in the  bulging maple leaf buds and in the puddle of a melting of a snowman that will turn the earth green again.

On to the next, but not favorite season!

2 thoughts on “No favorite season

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