spring coming

I got my first good look at the reservoir with Monroe on top of Wallace Mountain. It's funny that I'd been staying beside it for over a month, but I don't think I was really conscious of it until now. And of water in general. The creek waters are brown, telling us that our rampant development of these mountains is washing the land away.

On the night of the full moon, Matt, Brian, and I trespassed into the watershed. I was hushed, sleepy, trying to stick to the ruts in the road to not crunch on leaves. I followed Brian's silhouette ahead of me and held onto Matt's hand beside me, but otherwise, I let myself float into this peaceful, unfocused dream state. The moonlight lit the way pretty well, and we made it down to the lake on the other side of the dam and back. The spring peepers were chirping down by the water. The hemlocks and poplars and chestnut oak were quiet above.

Spirit of the rain, help me ease the pain.
Spirit of the storm, help me to be reborn.
Spirit of the land, hold me in your hand.
Spirit of the wind, carry me home....

I'm heading up to West Virginia until summer to work as a seasonal field instructor for The Mountain Institute. Matt is, too!