Going on three weeks ago, the weatherman declared the official opening of spring, 2022. Sunday, it's said the heavens will agree and off we go towards summer when theoretically at least, everybody eats.
Except this far north, both science and our position relative to celestial bodies lies.
Nearly 25 years ago and weary of the typical prairie spring that looks and feels like just more winter, Heather and I headed straight south.
I went armed with the Linhof, and a modest amount of transparency film.
Along the way we paid our respects to Mr. Lincoln.
And later the Gods, at their eponymous "Garden of."
At the Cache River, ill-tempered water moccasins are said to thrive. You couldn't prove that by me, but I don't doubt it.
We made it to where the Ohio River and the mighty Mississippi meet, then we turned back around and traveled all the way back home in a day, so to await the arrival of honest to god spring.
Which most years on the northern prairie during March, lives best in the imagination...
Fabulous! I am in love with that last photo. Just beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThanks Lydia. That's a tiny creek that rises from beneath the city, runs a very short distance along the edge of an old Potter's field, then disappears back beneath the city to who knows where...
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