Endicott Arm
Shapes! This was a day of natural beauty. Early shadows, gentle curves, sloping mountains, clear reflections, rounded rocks, and intricate designs. But few straight lines; nature produces few straight lines.
Shapes of granite massifs sculpted smooth and round by ancient rivers of ice - glaciers - some still coursing downward from their ice fields of origin high in these near-ocean mountains; gravity intent in its endless but futile effort to shape Planet Earth into a featureless, round ball.
Shapes of blue ice, perhaps a century or more old, jagged, fractured and misshapen to fashion the towering snout of a creeping glacier.
Shapes of a million shards of ice, exploded from cataclysmic calvings, now drifting and melting back into the ocean from which their waters came.
Shapes of cascading water, hissing down a rock face close to our eyes. Seemingly moving, marbling shapes as we stare at length into the plunging flow and then shift our gaze to the framing rocks and trees.
Shapes of stately conifers - tall and dark - reaching high for the sun’s light-energy so that they may grow even taller.
Shapes of small salmon, some now dead, holding in a temporary stream fed by recent rains. Some will deposit their spawn even though the glistening sun that we enjoy may soon end the flow of cool water and essential oxygen.
Shapes of tiny fruits drooping from now-wilting plants, carrying the seed of future generations.
Shapes of resplendent wilderness surrounding our tiny ship in a tiny cove.
Shapes! This was a day of natural beauty. Early shadows, gentle curves, sloping mountains, clear reflections, rounded rocks, and intricate designs. But few straight lines; nature produces few straight lines.
Shapes of granite massifs sculpted smooth and round by ancient rivers of ice - glaciers - some still coursing downward from their ice fields of origin high in these near-ocean mountains; gravity intent in its endless but futile effort to shape Planet Earth into a featureless, round ball.
Shapes of blue ice, perhaps a century or more old, jagged, fractured and misshapen to fashion the towering snout of a creeping glacier.
Shapes of a million shards of ice, exploded from cataclysmic calvings, now drifting and melting back into the ocean from which their waters came.
Shapes of cascading water, hissing down a rock face close to our eyes. Seemingly moving, marbling shapes as we stare at length into the plunging flow and then shift our gaze to the framing rocks and trees.
Shapes of stately conifers - tall and dark - reaching high for the sun’s light-energy so that they may grow even taller.
Shapes of small salmon, some now dead, holding in a temporary stream fed by recent rains. Some will deposit their spawn even though the glistening sun that we enjoy may soon end the flow of cool water and essential oxygen.
Shapes of tiny fruits drooping from now-wilting plants, carrying the seed of future generations.
Shapes of resplendent wilderness surrounding our tiny ship in a tiny cove.
