When glaciers lay in the valley, rivers ran along the side of the ice, high up, 170 metres above today’s shore. They tell a tale still of eddies, currents, and washed-out and red-deposited lake beds and sand bars, laid down in an exquisite pattern, how exposed and wicking salt to the air.
These river beds are now the home of wild bees.
Sometimes, it is a river stone that falls from an old sandbar that provides the beginning of the bee’s burrow.
The glaciers live on.
Thank you for teaching me about the mystery of the continuity of our ancient history.
LikeLike
It lives on, doesn’t it. I keep being impressed with the notion that time is very different for the earth than it is for Western cultural consciousness. I find that inspiring, as it allows for a path out of the dead ends we have built for ourselves. You are most welcome. This life is continually amazing. Every day opens. Then the night opens. Opening on opening!
>
LikeLiked by 1 person