Rain is winning the precipitation war today,  All winter it battles with snow for control of our lives and forest. The snow creates and the rain reduces until we are left with ice free lakes and muddy trails. Then, with the help of the freezing air, snow reclaims its kingdom. It could happen this afternoon or tomorrow or next week. Until then Aki and I must find enjoyment on forest trails like this one circling Auk Lake.

Aki can handle the icy path but I couldn’t safely get out of the car without pulling ice grippers over my boot soles. Ice made slick by rain offers no purchase for bare lug soles.  I bring a camera but have little hope of capturing beauty with it. Days like this turn it into a story telling device. There are hints of stories here like tiny deer tracks recently cut into rain softened ice and those of a dog who foolishly tested the weak lake ice.  Along the lake edge branches of half submerged spruce, now freed of snow by the rain, could be vertebrae of dragons soon to be freed from an icy prison.

Snow brings peace to the forest as it softens familiar shapes and brings colder temperatures to silence moving water courses. When snow rules we go deep in the woods, where the wind can’t reach, and enjoy a whitened church. Rain brings movement and energy and, I have to admit, excitement to our rain forests. Today the trail crosses a series of dark rivulets cutting a noisy path through the snow covered ground. Water droplets collect on every tree branch overhanging the lake then weaken the ice when they drop.

Approaching a larger stream crossing I notice that the trail crew used curving spruce trunks for the bridge. The young spruce once grew along the lake where they reached out over the water before turning up to the sun.  The trail designer must have harvested them after seeing in their arching bodies the reverse line of the trail where it crossed his creek. Last week’s snow hid the bridge. Today the trees’ gentle beauty and the designer’s genius have been revealed by the rain.

Christmas Day with family on a trail that has become an old friend. It snowed here earlier but we see none on the way to the beach, just the familiar shapes of an old growth forest— confusions of moss, dormant understory plants and an impossible number of spruce rising to the sky. It is all brown and green and asleep.

The sky wakes when we reach the beach an hour before official sunset, offering us a mix of grays and blues and yellows.  The tide and a northern wind have flooded the shore to the forest edge, leaving Aki without a beach to dash down.  She takes it well but does show impatience with my efforts to capture the sin now hitting Shaman Island.

It was a day without drama. Nothing to write or tell about. Just a simple walk with a friend and family on Christmas Day.

Last week’s storm first brought snow and then a cleansing rain that freed the city streets of ice and the forest understory of snow. This trail takes us through a forest on vacation from winter. Sorrel and Dogwoods make the most of it by lifting their still green leaves to the sky. It’s the right place to be on this day before Christmas.

Most of the forest waits for spring, leaves long severed, next spring’s buds wrapped in armor.  They preach patience and reassure Aki and I that the world is already tilting our northern land back toward the sun. The dog woods remind us that summer is worth the wait.

Tomorrow most in America will celebrate the birth of Christ, a star of patience and promise that still leads us out of our individual wastelands. Winter may cover the forest with snow tomorrow while rivers freeze over and the landfill overflows with torn wrapping paper.  Eventually a strengthening sun will alleviate the need for patience. I pray that even then we will not forget the promise of advent.