Someone had to go outside of our planet to confirm that, indeed, it's blue. Throughout our history, we were staring ahead endlessly at the water edge.
Was it the curiosity of what's on the other side or a primordial calling? Yet, there is so much that lays below the surface.
What's left from the tallest, reportedly the most extended mountain range in the history of our planet? Landscapes of 4-dimensional scale, with transparency of processes that formed the living soil on most of our continent.
Seeing them is just the beginning.
For decades the summer playground of so many Canadians and Americans. The waterways used to be packed with all sorts of water crafts. No longer, it's quiet now, deprived of children's laughter.
Yet, what's happening on the Shield's ecology could be observed so close home.
Can one develop a bigger picture of our world without insightful details, intertwining story lines, or frequent stops for reflections?
What appears obvious might be, in fact, very complex. What's seems irrelevant could be a springboard to endless conversations.
Sooner or later, you could feel it's coming. Despite all misfires, twists and turns at its arrival, it comes like a brief gentle kiss, never to be forgotten. Before you get used to it, it vanishes in the waves of sweltering heat.
A world so close to urban life and yet, so far away from it.
I often choose to set my camp under the white pine. The true marvel of ecological adaptation with a genome many times larger than my own body can master. It can create a symbiotic environment for many species, yet it can take over everything.
I tune into its gentle whispers in my midday nap.