Late Wednesday afternoon George and I headed to town to have my braces removed after two years, six months, three weeks and two days of enduring discomfort in the name or orthodontic health and a sparkling smile.
We drove by the light of a hazy crescent moon enshrouded in fog and dusted by shimmering snowflakes, falling like confetti on New Year’s Eve. A celebration of the natural world and the beauty that exists when we stop.
|Poles line the road for driving in white out conditions, only through this section though.|
We move forward, guided by blind faith, determination and Happy. Love.
All living things who call the wild woods of Wrangell St. Elias seem to sense our presence in the woods, long before they even hear the sounds of our children laughing and taking full delight in the beauty that surrounds us. The beauty wraps itself up in its awesomeness. Washing away the layers of the city, traffic, noise and light that have marked our experience and shaped the people we became though this process, this exercise in self-exploration. Each of us on our own respective journey, yet working together to accomplish something we all have a hand in, recreating the American dream and carving out a place for the dreamers, the thinkers, the doers, and wilderness seekers. The last frontier is calling, and I must go.
|Near the joyous halfway mark between home and home. Like white on rice...|
Step out the front door like a ghost
Into the fog where no one notices
The contrast of white on white.
And in between the moon and you
The angels get a better view
Of the crumbling difference between wrong and right.
I walk in the air between the rain
Through myself and back again