"Nevers Dam Landing" (Image & Text Copyright Wylddane Productions, LLC)
Sanctuary at the River's Edge...
There are moments when the world feels loud—even when I am alone. The noise of worry, the static of uncertainty, and the ache of things beyond my control can fill the silence. But then there are places, like Nevers Dam Landing, where all of that quiets, and something far older and truer rises to meet me.
Once, this place was alive with the sounds of industry. The rumble of logs crashing, the creak of timbers, the shouts of men working the flow of commerce along the St. Croix River. That dam, once a symbol of human effort and ambition, is gone now. In its place: soft sandy beaches, the murmur of current flowing endlessly downstream, and the whispered conversation of leaves stirred by the wind.
The forests have returned. Trees lean tenderly over the water’s edge as if peering into their own reflections.
Birds sing without concern for anything but the joy of being alive. And I stood there recently, breathing it in—not just the fresh river air, but the stillness, the unspoken peace that soaked into the soil and shimmered in the sunlight.
In that moment, I gathered the quiet unto myself. I let it seep into the corners of my soul where the dust of worry sometimes gathers. I absorbed it—not just as a memory, but as a presence. A reminder. A truth. That peace is not the absence of trouble; it is the presence of something deeper, something eternal. A calm that exists within and around us if only we stop long enough to notice.
The world continues its tumbling, chaotic dance. But I carry this stillness with me now—this river-moment, this forest-breath, this hush beneath the birdsong. Peace lives here, and now, it lives in me.
~Wylddane
There are moments when the world feels loud—even when I am alone. The noise of worry, the static of uncertainty, and the ache of things beyond my control can fill the silence. But then there are places, like Nevers Dam Landing, where all of that quiets, and something far older and truer rises to meet me.
Once, this place was alive with the sounds of industry. The rumble of logs crashing, the creak of timbers, the shouts of men working the flow of commerce along the St. Croix River. That dam, once a symbol of human effort and ambition, is gone now. In its place: soft sandy beaches, the murmur of current flowing endlessly downstream, and the whispered conversation of leaves stirred by the wind.
The forests have returned. Trees lean tenderly over the water’s edge as if peering into their own reflections.
Birds sing without concern for anything but the joy of being alive. And I stood there recently, breathing it in—not just the fresh river air, but the stillness, the unspoken peace that soaked into the soil and shimmered in the sunlight.
In that moment, I gathered the quiet unto myself. I let it seep into the corners of my soul where the dust of worry sometimes gathers. I absorbed it—not just as a memory, but as a presence. A reminder. A truth. That peace is not the absence of trouble; it is the presence of something deeper, something eternal. A calm that exists within and around us if only we stop long enough to notice.
The world continues its tumbling, chaotic dance. But I carry this stillness with me now—this river-moment, this forest-breath, this hush beneath the birdsong. Peace lives here, and now, it lives in me.
~Wylddane
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