September Morning on the East Inlet
We came here 40 years ago, a northern refuge in our lives. At that time and in years to come,
we explored the Great Northern Woods by truck, car, canoe, kayak, foot. We watched moose
feeding throughout the shallows. Loons -- single males, families, mother and chicks -- swam and
dived near us. Their cries shadowed our days and nights.
Early mornings filled with birdsong and later in the day frogs, insects, raptors and eagles.
All manner of ducks and Canada geese squawked and fed on the inlet. Young ducklings learned
to jump and nab the top seeds of aquatic grasses.
It was here we saw our first bull moose -- an old and regal survivor. He stood in the middle
of the inlet and submerged his entire body to escape the flies and feed on water plants. When
he lifted his mighty head, water streamed from his huge rack and green grasses hung
from his antlers.
Year by year we returned to this natural wilderness. The waters and land became part
of protected territory, although this protection has eroded over the years, like so many things
in life. Yet we still find a peace and a glimpse of what this world could be long into the future.
We spread my father's ashes here because he too revered its wildness. We've met so
many like-minded people, stayed in cabins and tents, hiked in rain, provided a feast for midges,
black flies and mosquitoes. We look beyond the modern mindset that requires hot tubs and all-
terrain vehicles, multi-million dollar houses and holdings and a creeping blindness to the true value
of wild places.
But here we are wrapped in the stillness and cool air of an autumn morning. I settle, recharge
and later, return to the fray with a clear vision of what is good and worthy and powerful.
