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Old World Days 1 1/2: Our Red River

Blog Post 15. (4/01/2020) - Intermission, Fargo Moorhead

‘It is not so dark here,’ said Theoden.

‘No,’ said Gandalf. ‘Nor does age lie so heavily on our shoulders as some would have you think. Cast aside your prop!’

A late winter scene on the Red River

It was not so dark by the Red river banks as one might have supposed, sitting in a cobwebbed study all day and working by lamplight. There was a certain satisfaction in breathing the promising airs of a late March evening, when the wind was gentle and the sunset was playing out across the water. I was pacing along the riverbank and keeping pace with the ice floes, in a way that was neither poetic nor graceful. The truth is that this crisis has me angry, positively furious. But I am lucky enough that I control where that anger takes me.

As the sun dipped out I swerved around and headed south along the river, into the dark. I find that the woods at night make for a good canvas for painting with memories. That night I was retracing my steps along a very different river, the Thames. It was a long walk before I got there, but I found myself remembering step by step.

(This is just a little blurb I've had lying around for a few weeks now and I thought I should publish something while my next big post is in the works. This is a little snapshot of how I'm feeling about the outbreak- times like these are good for reflection)

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