"Apple River Reverie" (Image & Text Copyright Wylddane Productions, LLC)
The mornings grow darker now when I first rise from bed, yet my coffee mug remains my steadfast companion, its warmth a comfort as I step into the new day. The French door stands open, and the fresh morning air drifts in—a gentle balm, cool and sweet, carrying with it the promise of beginnings. It is quiet this morning. No breeze stirs the trees. The sky is cloaked in cloud. Yet from the lake comes the distant honking of Canadian geese. Their calls echo in the stillness, and I cannot help but smile.
Yesterday I spent time along the Apple River, seated on a bench with the river at my feet. The water flowed in sunlight and shade, its surface a shifting mirror of the world above. The river’s murmur became a symphony, quiet yet profound, weaving through my thoughts as I read, and then beyond my book, deeper into the silence.
Did you know the Ojibwe name for the Apple River is Waabiziipiniikaan-ziibi—the “River Abundant with Swan Potatoes”? The swan potato, or broadleaf arrowhead, is a humble aquatic plant whose tubers once fed those who lived here long before French explorers mistranslated the name. Their rendering--pomme de terre, “apple of the earth”—eventually left us with “Apple River.” But beneath the surface of language, the old name remains, holding memory like roots in soil.
As I sat there yesterday, I felt history rise from the water. I could hear, almost, the rhythm of paddles dipping, the soft murmur of voices, the echo of axes from the logging days, the laughter of families who came later seeking leisure. The silence was full, not empty. It brimmed with memory, with presence, with story. It was as if the river itself leaned close, whispering: I have carried them all. I carry you, too.
Now, in this early morning, I hold that memory close. I think of Deepak Chopra’s words: “The past is history, the future is a mystery, and this moment is a gift. That is why this moment is called the present.”
And so here I sit, coffee in hand, the day before me. The past rests gently on my shoulder. The future waits, mysterious and bright, just beyond sight. And this moment—this present present—shimmers with the fullness of it all. What a blessing it is simply to be here.
“The river is everywhere at the same time, at the source and at the mouth, at the waterfall, at the ferry, at the current, in the ocean and in the mountains, everywhere, and that the present only exists for it, not the shadow of the past, nor the shadow of the future.” ~Hermann Hesse
~Wylddane
Yesterday I spent time along the Apple River, seated on a bench with the river at my feet. The water flowed in sunlight and shade, its surface a shifting mirror of the world above. The river’s murmur became a symphony, quiet yet profound, weaving through my thoughts as I read, and then beyond my book, deeper into the silence.
Did you know the Ojibwe name for the Apple River is Waabiziipiniikaan-ziibi—the “River Abundant with Swan Potatoes”? The swan potato, or broadleaf arrowhead, is a humble aquatic plant whose tubers once fed those who lived here long before French explorers mistranslated the name. Their rendering--pomme de terre, “apple of the earth”—eventually left us with “Apple River.” But beneath the surface of language, the old name remains, holding memory like roots in soil.
As I sat there yesterday, I felt history rise from the water. I could hear, almost, the rhythm of paddles dipping, the soft murmur of voices, the echo of axes from the logging days, the laughter of families who came later seeking leisure. The silence was full, not empty. It brimmed with memory, with presence, with story. It was as if the river itself leaned close, whispering: I have carried them all. I carry you, too.
Now, in this early morning, I hold that memory close. I think of Deepak Chopra’s words: “The past is history, the future is a mystery, and this moment is a gift. That is why this moment is called the present.”
And so here I sit, coffee in hand, the day before me. The past rests gently on my shoulder. The future waits, mysterious and bright, just beyond sight. And this moment—this present present—shimmers with the fullness of it all. What a blessing it is simply to be here.
“The river is everywhere at the same time, at the source and at the mouth, at the waterfall, at the ferry, at the current, in the ocean and in the mountains, everywhere, and that the present only exists for it, not the shadow of the past, nor the shadow of the future.” ~Hermann Hesse
~Wylddane
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