Where The Cool Winds Blow
A year ago I returned to the mountains of upstate New York for the first time in some years. It had been a long and overdue trip to the high peaks region of the Adirondacks, a place I've long considered a second home. For nearly twenty years I routinely visited for various adventures, whether for climbing peaks, racing bikes, or competing in the Ironman triathlon. But for a couple of years in that time period, I couldn't make a trip happen. Shame on me.
In the Adirondacks, there are a thousand variations of green that comprise the landscape. Between the branches of every tree, the cool winds blow, and the chiseled anorthosite juts up from the horizon and somehow seamlessly merges with the sky. On the ground, rivers and lakes shimmer in shades of blues and silvers. I've just returned from another trip to the mountains, and once again, minutes turned into hours as time slowed... Time... Elasticized. As I have so many times before, throughout the days I spent in the Adirondacks, I couldn't keep my mind from wandering toward the impossible: if only there were some way for life to always move at this pace. If only there were some way to permanently slow things down. But as the temperatures began to chill at the end of each day; as the golden yellow light transitioned to a deep violet just before sundown every night, I returned to the obvious: all we can do is focus on the present.
Footnotes: All images, Fujifilm X-T2 and Fujifilm X-Pro2 with various Fujinon lenses