Thursday, September 26, 2013

A Place Called Cornucopia


There's a little village along the south shore of Lake Superior called Cornucopia. It's a place of blue sky and blue water, beside a blue highway. When I was quite young I looked at a map (something I've always loved to do) and thought it sounded like a place I'd like to know. Through the years, I ended up driving by there several times ... always on my way to somewhere else.

When I first returned to Minnesota from Santa Fe, I was searching for a place to settle down and this area was on my list of options. I drove over one day to take a look around. One of the things I discovered was an organic grocery store on a side street above the lake, nestled inside an older building that must have housed a more traditional store once upon a time. I kept it on my list a little longer.

Eventually, I decided to return to the area where I grew up and spent a good portion of my earlier life. It felt right. This morning, a poem from The Writer's Almanac took my thought back to the lake:


"Sailing on Lake Superior"

Before us now the edge of the earth,
below us the nearly endless cold.
Around us nothing but shimmering
water,
the miles of empty and sparkling blue.

For a few hours, the sail fills on
toward infinity. Shadows of
our delicate bodies ebb and flow
across the deck of our delicate boat.

What if the beautiful days, the good
and pacific temperate moments,
weren't just lovely, but everything?
What if I could let it fall away
in the wake, that ache to extract
meaning from vastness?

Let this suffice; the ease of thinking
it all goes on, whether we're here
to see it or not. The splashing waves,
the suntipped gulls arcing across
the radiant world.


~ Kirsten Dierking, American poet (1962 - )


33 comments:

  1. I like the poem .And I love your header - looks as if the rocks are somehow sending secret messages.

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    1. Thank you, Jenny. I think those rocks just might be ... a magical place.

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  2. You have captured it, Teresa E, the mystery of Nature in her wind, water & waves, in these words of Dierking: where everything changes from nano second to nano second, as it has from the beginning and will to the end and beyond. Everything in your photo, except for the yacht, is perpetually alive. The presence of the yacht is also important. It is a vital reminder that only us humans and our toys are impermanent. This is a wonderful post.

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    1. I thought of you as I posted this. Your love of sailing ...I'm so glad you like it.

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  3. I also echo Ms Woolf on your banner photo & subtitle!

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    1. The red rock formations remind me of Colorado Springs, where I grew up.

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    2. I love red rock country ... my brother spent most of his adult life in the Springs ... some beautiful country ...

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  4. I really like that poem! I also ended up settling into a place near where I grew up, but a fondness still lingers for other places, so different.

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    1. I still have a hankering to spend more time in the SW, especially Santa Fe, a place that still feels very much like home. And then there's the ocean, and that lookout cabin at the top of a mountain ... :)

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  5. Hello Teresa, I love your new blog-header photograph. The poem made me remember that yes, all this will go on even after we have moved on...'The splashing waves,
    the suntipped gulls arcing across
    the radiant world.'
    A truly wonderful vision...!

    Hugs Jane

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    1. Jane! I'm so happy to see you! Once upon a time that thought of the world going on without me was troubling, now I find it comforting ... hugs to you, sweet lady.

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  6. Sounds like you did some serious research when you decided to settle somewhere besides Santa Fe. Your Cornucopia town must be a lovely little town. Cold but quaint perhaps? -- barbara

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    1. Yes, I did have a few places in mind, northern Wisconsin being one of them. I have never been to Cornucopia in the winter, and that's a good thing. It remains in perpetual summer in my mind ... :) I trust you're enjoying your sojourn to Vancouver ...I hear it's beautiful...

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    2. I haven't had much of a chance to get out and discover yet but one thing that immediately hit my senses was the abundance of tall conifers and many large ravens. Ravens were sacred to the Pacific Northwest natives so I look at them as a talisman of good fortune.

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    3. Yes, I love this. Absolutely. A wonderful message.

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  7. Isn't is a gift when a poem pops up to harken one back to a place or a moment? The Writer's Almanac is akin to a morning prayer for me most days, Teresa. This. This is, to me, a most uplifting poem. I'm so glad you shared it, along with the sailing photo.

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    1. I'm so glad I discovered their daily poem. It's always a treat to see what they post. Yes, I agree, a daily prayer.

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  8. Dear Teresa, the poem spoke to me of the varied philosophical questions we all have about life and its ending--whether there is something or someone beyond the now. Finding symbolism in nature--is something that I've done since I was very young. And so this poem about Lake Superior fills me with nostalgia for the ten years when a friend and I camped by the lake in the parks along the North Shore.

    This line from the poem so succinctly reflects my yearnings through the years: "What if I could let it fall away
    in the wake, that ache to extract meaning from vastness?" The thing is, Teresa, I think that I think too much! Peace.

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    1. I have been working on thinking less ... it's a lingering malady ... :)

      Camping on the North Shore holds many wonderful memories for me.

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  9. Oh, I just did it again. That silly "sign out" button is where the publish button used to be, and I clicked it and erased my whole comment. I know I can't replicate it, so I'll just sigh a sad little sigh and tell you how much I enjoyed this post.

    I do wish blogger would stop messing with their templates and commenting system. ;-)

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    1. Me, too. They continually "fix" what ain't broke.

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    2. I meant to add thank you. Glad you like the post.

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  10. Cornucopia sounds beautiful and intriguing. I love places that invite us even when we don't choose to stay. It's important that you eventually chose the place that felt right. I would never return to where I grew up having changed from rural to wealthy suburbia but the place where I chose to settle (almost 40 years ago) has proven to be a great decision. Lucky we both are.

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    1. It looks more like a New England fishing village. I also love Bayfield, WI, which is much more touristy, but the place to get to Madeleine Island. I hope to go back ... next summer. Yes, we be lucky... :)

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    2. Madeleine Island? Sounds nice, isolated, remote........sounds good. What is it like?

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    3. Madeleine Island is the least isolated of the Apostle Islands ... it has ferry service. The far side of the island has a greater sense of quiet, although a few summer homes. The smaller islands are a bit more isolated. It's not the same sense of quiet to be found on many Canadian lakes. It is a beautiful area, though.

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  11. A stellar poem and photo. Looks like a perfect place to catch a Lake Trout. I can almost feel the cool breeze off the lake.

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    1. Yes, I can well imagine how a day on this lake would feel ... near it, feeling that breeze, very nice...

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    1. Nothing quite like moonlight on the ocean. I'd like to bury my toes in that wet sand!

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    2. As good a place to be buried (totally) as any. :-)

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  13. Yes, it seems natural and right to return to this place of origin, whether metaphoric or actual... :)

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