I was chasing spring wildflowers before the leaves popped in the old woods along Big Wilson Stream up in Elliottsville, Maine. The cliche' teachers say 'expect the unexpected.' I never was really much for  conjuring up a dimes worth for a hundred soul-saving deep breathes, let alone a canoe full of bullions for expected happy surprise, human worth or wisdom, that is, 'till this particular day in Spring...

I was trudging up a wet slope in Big Wilson Forest, an old growth forest I had  photographed, documented and eventually preserved in perpetuity. Just below the CPRR grade west of Big Wilson, I wiggled up a steep narrow gulch, and as I bent under a half downed tree stem, this icy hand literally rose up from the mound on the ground right before me - in my face. This cryptic greeting left me spell bound and feeling caflomixed well  beyond all words, expectation and wisdom.

Nature is so ephemeral, ever-changing, the one and only constant I know of with any human certainty. There is little doubt in my mind that this icy hand slowly disappeared into the soil over the next three warm spring days, gone forever in perpetuity. Come to think on it, if The Big Wilson Forest had not been protected from harvest, this unusual encounter with the - unforeseen and unexpected - icy hand would never had a bullion, a breath or dime of my time. I can almost imagine this cold hand arising before me in a gesture of thanks for sparing the shady old trees and roots in Big Wilson Forest from certain death... Amen to that.