Above or below treeline, I ache to see them. It stems from my prairie childhood, I think, this longing to see. And perhaps this is also why my midwest soul likes plans (plans and plains -- any coincidence, do you think, that they are only one letter off?). Homesteaders might not have been the most bohemian, but they dug their heels into those plains, they made plans, they got things done. And for want of land, I inherited those things -- their character. To see far, look the distance, and to know what's coming and when. Judging by the thunder, only minutes. To know how far you have to go, and to be honest with yourself about whether you can. Almost always the answer is yes -- yes you can go that far. Just dig in your heels a little harder. Swear if you have to.
Growing up with a panoramic view (a clear 360 if you stood in one place and ballerina toe-turned), a tunnel of trees suffocated me.....for awhile. I had taken sight -- I had taken horizons -- for granted. But then -- then, I discovered treeline. That magical border which, upon crossing, transports me back to the prairie.
I love this place.
And I showed this place, this line, to my mother. Now she loves it too, and for the exact same reason. "I want to go above treeline" was her request for one day of her visit this past weekend.
"So do I."
And thus we went and found our souls wandering, out on the plains where they always have.....