A frozen lake beneath ashen skies, fitting enough on this Ash Wednesday.
An old roadway, once public, now sees only hikers and horses.
This old spring, adjacent to the road, is barely visible in the gray landscape, beneath the gray skies.
A mossy lane through the hills, once known as McKenzie Road. In places the tarmac is still intact.
The Lakeside Lodge seems to be occupied year round, and I can see why. It would be the perfect place in late winter to meditate on the fleetingness of life. Do you suppose that's why people book it?
"Memento mori?" Perhaps. Its always good to take stock. However, I never think of death much in the woods. My family booked our beloved cabin up in Cook Forest two years ago during the week of New Years. I was shocked at how quiet the woods were. Only the prints in the snow showed evidence that something was still alive in the forest. Yet even in this stark, barren landscape, I sensed the life there sleeping, storing up its momentum for the delicate coming of Spring and the lush explosion of Summer. I think we are fortunate to feel the seasons so keenly here and have them played out in the landscape with a myriad of hues. Even in winter, the full spectrum of French and cool greys, the stark white and crystal blue shade, burnt umber and sienna, all speak more of life than death to me. So I would book the Lakeside Lodge for life. The fleetingness of life is best considered when you're in the daily grind of chasing the dollar sign. As far as I'm concerned, thats what symbolizes death for me.
ReplyDeleteThat's a great observation, John. The S&J Editorial Board definitely tends toward melancholia! I'll be in touch soon.
ReplyDelete-SBP