Hiking with Pops in the Cascades...Lake Merrit trail, just over Steven's Pass.

The Three Voices

The waves have a story to tell me,
As I lie on the lonely beach;
Chanting aloft in the pine-tops,
The wind has a lesson to teach;
But the stars sing an anthem of glory
I cannot put into speech

The waves tell of ocean spaces,
Of hearts that are wild and brave,
Of populous city places,
Of desolate shores they lave,
Of men who sally in quest of gold
To sink in an ocean grave.

The wind is a mighty roamer;
He bids me keep me free,
Clean from the taint of the gold-lust,
Hardy and pure as he;
Cling with my love to the nature,
As a child to the mother-knee.

But the stars throng out in their glory,
And they sing of the God in man;
They sing of the Mighty Master,
Of the loom his fingers span,
Where a star or a soul is a part of the whole,
And weft in the wondrous plan.

Here by the campfire's flicker,
Deep in my blanket curled,
I long for the peace of the pine-gloom,
When the scroll of the Lord is unfurled,
And the wind and the wave are silent,
And world is singing to world.

by Robert Service (The Spell of the Yukon)

Somewhere near Bath, Maine. You would have thought it was monsoon season the day before, but this one dawned perfect. And yes, this was really the backdrop for their wedding--ocean inslet, New England farmhouse, frisbees, tents and rubber boots. (Incidentally, I ended up back at home with a stripe of mud splattered down the back of all my clothes...strange. musta been the dancing...;)
Rumor has it there were people doing yoga at 8am. I think that was made up by a group of wannabe over-achievers to make the rest of us feel lazy.
I titled this shot 'gorgeous'. Basically the theme of the whole wedding. All my love to matt and elin.

The 'altar' at top, all of us gathered for the wedding, and morning sun in the trees...Always up to the ankles in mud ;)

What an exit...

Me and Robbie, post-wedding festivities...probably up to our ankles in mud...?!

to know the joy

but how to let life move me, woo me
without surrendering to its footprint
I make the choice to say,
if I will breathe then I will cry
if I will hope then I will suffer
if I will live then I will die

and may there be more in death of light and living?
then I have yet to shed my eye
on questions which can't be so simple
and hopes that mighn't be so right

invincibility could be my enemy
and power that which keeps me framed
against a landscape of my own choosing--
what is there to fear or amaze?

I choose my own way to burn
in my eyes and in my belly
my last choice--I choose to blaze.

caught alive now
foreign eyes now
delicate new taste

I let my caution and my comfort
offer fodder for the flames
and watch my ashes rise, dance, decide
to settle with the wind
make their peace with winter's sleep
and wed to weathered ground

it seems that all that's left will be a fast and fading fire
but slackened light does not deny
a footprint's steady cry