Superior Spring, in Retrospect

Captured on large format transparency film, mostly.

Occasional appearances to the contrary, the Superior Basin is a naturally hard place.

Typically, Northwoods winter is “kinda long.”

As the frigid season finally starts to give way, anticipation grows.

Snowmelt saturates the Basin. Often in a mad rush.

Yet for a brief time, spring seems almost picture postcard perfect.

Inevitably, all that wet splendor also births a plethora of biting bugs.

For instance, hiking sweat stained and heavy laden along the ballistic buzzing mile or so of wilderness river trail hoping maybe to catch a rumored seasonable waterfall was a real trial.

Except there I learned that for just a very few days, marsh marigolds might actually thrive on near vertical hard rock, when kept sufficiently wet.

Upper left, for those wishing to see…

It once took me three  springs in a row on what was for me sacred ground, to capture merely a single worthy image of a very special place.

First year, marauding clouds of mosquitos surrounded me and I hightailed it out before I even got in.

Second year I managed to about set up then instead fled lickity split, though I sure the hell thought that like any good Boy Scout, I’d gone in prepared.

Third year proved the charm. Credit perseverance and pro grade anti-biting bug field gear.

And I've never been back here again, not in spring...

Few weeks later give or take, even marauding insects are relatively sated.

Summer arrives as the shaded forest is flush. Which rich green season around Superior runs fleeting.

Because with summer solstice, ever shorter days are each and every day, while long light lowering steadily toward another hard winter is the one true season.