The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a person’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.
Jose Ortega y Gasset
Summer is lingering around Michigan this year and presenting us with tranquil scenes such as this .
This peaceful woods is less than an hour’s drive from the clamor of Detroit, a safe harbor amidst the sturm und drang of urban life and a monument to the foresight of the person who preserved a verdant island of Nature about 100 years ago.
This past weekend, a two track road through the forest led me to a secluded lake in Michigan’s Pigeon River state forest.
Along the banks of the Au Sable River, there are places where the trees escaped the logger’s saw, and so as the decades passed they grew to full height. Now, even on the sunniest of summer afternoons, their high branches shelter the forest floor, so the light is always muted and high noon seems like dusk. Except in those few spaces where the canopy has a gap and the sunlight pours down.