Trail Time – Waiting Time of Year
The wind has finally died down. Last night a ferocious wind roared and whipped and made sounds I hadn’t ever heard before. At one point I thought that all the snow had slid off the roof — that usually is a Great Big Sound. I stuck my head outside and nope! It was the wind and another gust was coming. It’s not a good time to be walking in the woods when it blows like that. I’ll be watching to see if the wind pushed over any of the dead balsam firs or dead standing birches. Today was quieter — the only sound I heard was crunch, crunch, crunch. A continual freeze-thaw cycle has created glaciers of ice wherever boots and tires have gone before. My footsteps are the loudest things around. We don’t walk anywhere without attaching spikes to our boots these days and they are noisy on the ice. The untrod-upon snow is crusty but very unstable. Anishinaabe peoples call this the Broken Snowshoe Moon for good reason. I have also heard it called the Worm Moon, but that must be for southerly places. The worms in my neighborhood are under two feet of snow.
It’s grown quiet again on the Gunflint Trail. The last few weeks were event-filled, starting with the Beargrease Sled Dog Race. After that, there were Snowmobile drag races on Poplar Lake and an ice fishing event on Gunflint Lake. We had some glorious sun-filled days for them but now it has clouded over. The lovely upside of cloudiness is warmer weather. Shirtsleeve weather, almost. At least that’s what it feels like to those of us acclimated to the northern cold.
This is a waiting time of the year now: waiting for the ice to melt; waiting for spring; waiting for the migratory birds to return. We have plenty to do, of course, while we wait. There is always something to build or fix or mend. Or draw or paint or write. Like I tell Lars when I am in a bear-drawing phase, “Those bears aren’t going to draw themselves! Somebody has to do it!” It’s good to have a mission. Drawing is one of mine and so is painting.
It’s been one year since I started painting again, after a couple decades focusing on minor things like a career and family. This time around I concentrated on watercolor landscapes. It was only after I started painting again that I remembered how much I love to draw. And the best part about drawing is how it teaches me to see.
Drawing as a way of seeing is a powerful tool for focus and memory. It also requires so much concentration that I can forget whatever else is happening — in Washington or in my head — and through that focus, simply, powerfully BE.
Being powerfully present in nature means you get to experience it in a different way than you would if you were just strolling along, thinking about whatever. And I don’t mean to criticize strolling. I am quite an expert at lolling around, at dilly-dallying or dreaming my way along. If you haven’t tried drawing as a way to see, I recommend it. It grounds a person, which is crucial in a waiting time.
Of course, one of the things we’re waiting for is to see how the cuts in federal funding are going to affect this area — both the National forest and the Boundary Waters. Will permits get issued? Will portages and campsites be maintained? Will wildfire fighters get the support they need to combat wilderness blazes? Will the families of those federal employees that are laid off be okay?
Sometimes I don’t know how I can possibly be of help in any of these matters, but on good days I know what to do, like support the people who cherish this boreal natural wonder and fight for it. I can be welcoming to the visitors who contribute to our local economy and patiently answer their questions. I can encourage kids to enjoy this very special wilderness. It’s crucial to expose children to this wild part of the world since they will be the ones protecting it after we elders are gone. I can help clean the Gunflint Trail for the annual Gunflint Cleanup. I can be diligent in putting out fires. I can help maintain our wildfire sprinkler system in case of a forest fire. I can bring cookies and bread to neighbors. Most of all, I can keep writing this little radio show, Trail Time, where my goal is to enliven people’s interest to the beauty and wonder of this special place so they too can help care for and protect it.
— Marcia Roepke
