A venturesome group of ten, tramping along the Pinghut Trail to Bushline Hut perched along the west side of Mount Robert, overlooking Rotoroa Lake (Ice cold waters, eels). This image frozen in time exhibits the lush vegetation of the surrounding forests. Pin cushion moss invading the tree ferns has been left out of the frame. The trail fades in and out of the visibility of the hikers. They leave behind thin, eerie clouds as they ascend into a forest, it is a forest that looks as though it belongs in a Dr. Seuss book. They keep order in their single file line. Layer upon layer- base, insulation, shell- some are attentive to the weight of their packs, to the photographer, while others stare off into the immense forests. Just out of view there is a shelter that they all huddle into within moments after this photo was taken. The rain beats down and the wind rages, weather was a hindrance for the group at times. With hours and hours to go before reaching their stopping point at Bushline Hut the group treks forward, resting infrequently.

Earliest memory...

My earliest memory is from when my sister was in preschool...so I have come to the conclusion that I either did not speak until I was 3 or my memory is just not as sharp as others. Even this recollection is blurry and non-descript in my mind. My favorite place at the school was the jungle gym, of course! The larger than life playset and bikes were simply splendid to me.

This particular moment at that school was warm, it was Christmas time and the atmosphere was "jolly" to say the least. My sister and I had to have our picture taken by the Christmas tree for our mother (who I must say is way too camera happy). I was so upset that I could no longer play and this particular phot depicts that well. My sister's posture was so proper and her smile gleamed, while I stood there straight faced, hands behind my back.

I have many childhood memories but would have to say that this is probably the earliest...at some point they all seem to fade into each other.

The Butterfly...

In my french literature class, we just read a poem by Lamartine "Le Papillon" ("The Butterfly"). I found it ironic that here we are in Studies of a Major Author discussing butterflies at the same time. The butterfly seemed to represent freedom and beauty within life. The poem begins with the birth in spring and ends with the death. The poet connects so many senses and feelings to the image of the butterfly.

I will post this poem later today...