A gorgeous jaunt on the North Shore, if a bit short.
First, a photo essay:
That pretty well sums it up.
Except I didn’t manage to take any pictures whilst vehemently scrubbing my face Thursday night, when the wind and the cold conspired against my headlight and it exploded to drip battery acid on my face. Unpleasant.
You don’t think those things really happen. At least I didn’t think those things really happened. Even with the surreal POP coming from the vicinity of my forehead, I remained unfazed, convinced that the fire had shot up an impressive spark in the wind. Under that rain tarp, things appear louder than they really are, you know? Ten minutes later, a rogue raindrop found its way up and under said tarp and landed itself neatly between my eyes. Bizarre. When I reached up to rub it dry, the burning was intense, and removed all remaining denial. And hair.
If you care, or would like to arm yourselves with anti-deformity knowledge for when those things actually happen to you, most soaps are slightly basic, and with enough scrubbing, you can cease the eating of your face by the hideous battery juices. The pain will remain, but you will wake up with most of your own face. Thanks be to God that Gooseberry’s soap-filler-man was on top of his game that day.
Barring the Gales of October that claimed our tent, and the failed Energizer that attempted to deform me, it was a lovely trip. A bit short, but when the tent looks like that, you don’t argue. You pack up and go home.
Wednesday night, fireside, I was reminded of the beautiful words of Micah:
(I suppose it’s worth noting that I was reading under the stars, before the rains and winds.)
That, too, about sums it up.
There are many things that I have no control over. At the time, the things that came to mind were mostly of the familial sort. My kids’ futures. The decisions that they make that will affect the rest of their days. What life will look like next year, or next week, or later that night.
Today I can add to the list some more imminent distresses. The tensile strength of my guy-out cords and tarp riggings. The failure rate of AAA batteries that I wear directly over my eyes (Alright, maybe I don’t have to wear them over my eyes…).
Regardless of scale or origin, the list of things beyond my control is staggering. But I’m not required to attend to the things on that list.
Where I’m to rest my focus and spend my energies in on the narrow swath of experience within my sphere of power. Love my kids. Face the Light. Keep swimming. Be merciful. And usually, shut my mouth.
Adieu, Gooseberry. Until next year…