The morning’s snow fall brings fragile beauty to this trail. Flakes gather in the crevices formed by branches and twigs on trail side blueberry bushes. They will fall as wet drops to the ground as the temperature rises or fly off in the next moderate breeze. Further into the woods snow, filtered by the old growth canopy, falls on mossy green ground. I want to morn the inevitable destruction of magic but opt instead to be in the moment.
The melt is more advanced when we reach salt water, Alders lining the beach stand bare. Snow still covers the beach except where an incoming tide has washed it clean. Something or someone around the next headland frightens a raft of ducks to flight, They hit the water just offshore of us. Then a gang of gulls burst into a mewing song and take briefly to air before resettling on the beach. They mutter for a bit, perhaps about foolish ducks and this unending winter. Standing still Aki and I watch the ducks and Shaman Island now whitened with fresh snow.
I listen to the faint surf and stain to see the outline of Portland Island through the screen of snow. I wish I could freeze this moment in time—turn it into a film to be explored by all five senses. Then water drops fall on me from the overhead trees and I notice how cold the wind is on this exposed beach. Abandoning the moment completely I think of what to freeze in time. It would be great to capture the joy at the birth of my child or love’s first kiss. I could study them, even walk through them again again. Returning from exploring an interesting scent, Aki stands where the trail leads away from the beach. She of few memories, seems to recognize the peril in my fantasy. She is the queen of living in the moment. I follow her into the woods and the moment.