Aesthetic Moment: My Muse – Tucker Lake

My muse took me for a walk yesterday to revisit the ancient hemlocks around Tucker Lake.  The day was warm, dry leaves rustled beneath my footsteps.  The air smelled fresh, crisp, "pine-y," I do not know if that is a word – like my art, I just made it up.  The sun's light shown on groves of smaller pines, coloring them with silver light.  The same silver light made the spider's web visible as it drifted across the path.  Ever so fine silk threads twisting with gentle puffs of wind.

The taller pines sang gently with the same wind.

The grove of hemlocks I was going to revisit are so big that it would take over 3 people to make a circle around them.  To have lasted so long and to be so majestic – like the giant redwoods out in California.  So blessed to have them so close. The dark lush green and the deep brown, black trunks of the hemlocks provided a wonderful contrast to the older birch that survived in this same grove of trees.  Looking up the canopy of dark green allowed for very little blue sky to peek through.  Looking down the forest bed was covered with a very dark emerald green moss and scattered ochres and sienna birch leaves that had fallen.

It was quiet. So quiet amongst the hemlocks.  Tucker Lake is just beyond this grove of hemlock.  As I approached the lake, I was unable to maintain the silence because of the rustling leaves beneath my feet that blanketed the path.  I startled a flock of ducks resting during their yearly migration on the lake.  Startled, they rose and flew to the other end of the lake.  Hovering so close to the surface of the lake creating little ripples across the glassy surface. 

Once I settled along the shore for a few moments – two eagles took flight from the large white pine above me.  As I watched them glide with the wind currents, four more eagles joined them, and they began to fish for dinner.  I watched as one swooped down, grabbed a fish with its powerful talons and began to fly off, only to lose the fish during takeoff.  The eagle circled around trying to recapture the fish, but the fish will live to survive another day. 

The sun began to lower, so I began the walk back to the trail head. The silver light had gone, and the gentle wind had stopped dancing with all things natural.  So, I would stop, along the way to listen, to become one with the forest.  This is when all things became fluid for me.  I was part of where I was.  And I was at peace.