What a river don't know is
To climb out and heed a line
To slow among roses
Or stay behind
—Bon Iver, 00000 Million
This past week, I made what has become an annual pilgrimage to the big trees on the Western slope of the Sierras, this time with three little ones in tow. It’s a testament to how much living got done in 2017 that the last posting here was from our trip a year ago.
This time my wife and I brought three small adventurers with us, who climbed under, over, and through the greatest trees that ever grew. When they were exhausted, we put them to bed and I crept into the silent grove, now emptied of all visitors and placed my camera before the Oregon Tree.
The firmament reeled beyond in what Muir called “an infinite storm of beauty” and the tree absorbed the California night, absorbed the starlight as it has since before there was a park, before there was a California, before there were English words, as it has since before the stars had names.
Wishing you a splendid New Year and, in the midst of being rushed along by the inexorable flow of life, the opportunity to climb out and heed a line, to slow among roses, or to stand amongst giants.