In the woods, you expect a lot of things. Trees, birds, wood. Then there’s the other stuff. The stuff that creates stories. Like the time you were hiking and came across a petrified stump. Try walking up to that in the night.
Along the walk, they sit. Rows of seating, a type of rustic amphitheater. A nice place to stop.
At the end of the day, it’s the place to be. For high spirits, and alcohol, they really know how to party. And the people are everything.
The view from the lake is spectacular. Crisp, cool. Not much else is expected when you visit a glacier.
Whether your coming or going, it’s apparent you have arrived. At Lucas.
As the sun rises, the water is calm. It’s cold outside, in the still air but if you look across the lake, you can see just how still the air is. The water is like glass.
Its raining, the water making its way to the ground. Slowwly dripping from the petals of our poppies, they begin to glisten. The poppy drops.
The petals are fragile, delicate. Its life visible right in the bud’s veins. Filled with chlorophyll, the bud prepares for the next stage of its life. The stage that gives us life. Nutrition at its most simplest form, the peapod.
You miss so much when you’re the driver. The sunlight, the animals, and what’s along the road. The farms, the rural landscapes, and the country wagon all pass us by, giving us glimpses of history. For a second.