Ancient Spirits

I had passed the Canyon Falls rest stop many times driving to and from the Keweenaw, but for some reason had never stopped. This time I did, walking down the trail to the river and canyon with its dark slick rocks and cold, rushing waters. I sat on a welcoming ledge, feet dangling in the river, eyes closed, listening to the canyon and feeling the cool spray against my face. The canyon was peaceful and calming, but it wasn't until my walk back that I felt the real spirit of the place.

Near the trail, surrounding and almost engulfing a huge boulder, grew a clump of trees, mostly cedars but also others. They grew on top of and over a massive, inhospitable boulder. Perhaps when the trees were just seedlings, there was enough soil and moisture to shelter them on the rock, but as they grew and outgrew their stony host, they sent their roots out towards the ground searching for nourishment and a more secure anchorage. Now, through patience, perseverance and determination the roots, twining and twisting, had nearly engulfed the rock.

Perhaps, some day, the roots and the leaves and the duff will cover the boulder, hiding it beneath the soil but in the end, long after the trees have died and rotted back into the forest, the rock will remain.