This landscape, at this time of year…..there is still snow in the corners, ice on the edges. The deciduous tree line is pale. Even the conifers can looked bleached out, spent, a pause before greening. The world can seem bleak now; the land is holding it’s breath before the final exhalation of winter. Late this afternoon I stopped by Sennebec Pond on the way home from the studio, the shadows were lengthening…I wanted to pause by the cold water and mark the progress of blue against white, the ice melting and receding, the water swelling and running fast. Along the edges of the river, in the narrows, ice is still clinging to the branches and limbs now caught in the rising water – they look exactly like chandelier crystals – you can almost make out the sound of them tinkling.
This pond is simply a widening in the St. George River, just one of many, as it makes its way, falling and tumbling, never stopping, tirelessly forming ponds, lakes, coves and harbors, on its journey to the sea.
I am unsure of the source of this river but it feels familiar to me as if it is part of where we all have come from….and it is gentle at times, sometimes fast and fierce, but always steadfast in its falling, following the contours of rock and earth, so sure of its intention, fearlessly seeking sea level and a baptism of salt. A constant and flowing pilgrimage; humble in its ability to fill any space that is offered, spilling its cold clear water into the brine, into the salt marsh, finally reaching the mother ocean. This river of moving water doesn’t fear the end of its journey over earth, it is resolute and filled with grace, and leaves us gifts of tears along the way.