Yesterday Jon and I headed out to Red River Gorge, for what was easily the nicest day of the year so far. I mean, we were in short sleeves, it was awesome. And though the temps reached well into the 60’s, there were still icicles to be found. This post is my ode to winter, a farewell to what I hope is the last of the ice and snow.
On the way out to the Gorge, we settled on a trail that neither of us had hiked before, #225, Silvermine Arch. It was a fairly easy trail, only three miles round trip, but we decided on a softball for our first hiking adventure of 2010. I was amazed by the enormous icicles we encountered when we reached the titular arch at the end of the trail. Some of larger ones were around 15 feet tall, and probably weighed upward of 1,000 pounds. After I snapped the first few photos, I ventured underneath the overhanging cliff face, behind the icicles. After a few moments, a giant icicle between Jon and I came crashing down, and then a moment later, another followed. Luckily, Jon was far enough away, and I was under the safety of the rock outcrop, so that no one was hurt. It was exhilarating, frightening. A not so subtle reminder of how a poor decision, or a moment of carelessness, could lead to total disaster. Say if I had tried to take a picture directly under one of the frozen behemoths.
With the vernal equinox only weeks away, I’m starting to get antsy about the coming spring. I grow tired of photographing barren landscapes, full of grays and browns. I’m looking forward to lush greens; to fields of wild flowers. The warming weather has reinvigorated my sense of adventure, my desire to go forth and make new discoveries.
As I watched the icicles melt, and crash down from their lofty position, I knew that spring was on its way. So farewell hats and gloves, hello shorts and sunscreen.
Greenery is already pushing through, birds are already starting to whistle and warble. Soon, winter will be a distant memory, that is until it comes again. Always a cycle, a serpent swallowing its own tail. There are times I wished I lived in a place of perpetual summer, but then I wonder if summer would mean as much without winter. Must we know pain to truly appreciate pleasure?
I know that many of you too, are ready to welcome the coming spring with open arms. So let us embrace it together, like an old friend, though we know its presence is ever fleeting.
Ryan