Transitory Travels

I am never without a camera of one kind or another. If I don't have a digital camera tucked in my purse, I always have my iPhone to snap shots whenever the thought moves me. Today I was out on this sunny day after a weekend of icy roads and blowing winds. I drove down to one of my usual stopping places, a boat ramp along one of the rivers that grace the town where I live. I was hoping to spot some bald eagles, but this particular place in the river had already succumbed to the frigid temperatures. The river was a sheet of ice. Slow-moving current and shallow depths prevented an open oasis for the eagles to fish. I stepped out of my vehicle and snapped a few pictures; a study in grey and white, blue and silver, as the sun gave false warmth to a frigid December day.

Closing my eyes, I recalled the same scene, months past. The river was flowing free. Green overwhelmed the eye in the height of summer. The sun-baked ground only reflected back the heat of the sun. The air smelled of an impossible perfume of warm grasses. Bird-song was a consonance, bordering on cacophony. As the bitter wind buffered my fur-trimmed hood, I opened my eyes to find myself transported back to the tundra-like view before me.

My memories left me as quickly as I opened my eyes, but reality, too had left me just as swiftly when I shut out the scene before me.

Life is transitory. It had seemed, like everyone says, "just yesterday when..." and soon enough I will find myself in this very same spot, taking snapshots of a flowing river, abundantly green trees, impossibly blue skies, bird-song as a soundtrack and the warm essence of sun-baked grass. I will recall that day when, on a whim I stopped to take a snapshot of an icy river on a cold day in December. It seemed like just yesterday...but it will once again return in a blink of an eye.

Close your eyes, and we become travelers in time.