Poem: Separation Lines from the Boundary Waters and Beyond

Separation

There’s a line that the wilderness
draws behind each of us
a little distance from Ely.
Whether by stream, river or lake
as our canoes slip
over it,
pulled by paddle stroke
and the desire to find more than
our own reflection in the
Boundary Waters.

This line when crossed can
never be returned from,
can’t be uncrossed.

Though it is invisible, almost everyone
I know can recall the moment
they entered the other side.
The side where our previous selves
began to fade and our
canoe camping self began to pulsate,
like the oldest coals of our
campfires.

The afternoon sun burnt off the rest of the shadows
as we paddled on,
not stopping until we blended into
the darkness and the branches
of the pines and cedars
reached out over the water
to welcome us home.

©Timothy James Stouffer 06052017
All Rights Reserved Ely, Minnesota

If you like the poetry we publish here and on social media you might like to check out a recent Zine created by Simon and Tim Stouffer who work at Piragis Northwoods Company.  Pronounced "ZEEENE" like Maga-zine, a zine is a self published, small run of artwork and/or prose.  This particular zine was actually printed locally at Ely Design Works on high quality paper to showcase the 20 black and white photos taken by Simon.  Accompanying the photos are original poems by Tim Stouffer.  The content was inspired by their day together along the North Shore early this Spring.

Here's a link:  https://www.boundarywaterscatalog.com/tim-stouffer/day-one-a-zine-by-tim-and-simon-stouffer-159648

Poem: Grandparents Lines from the Boundary Waters and Beyond

Grandparents

(Poetry from the Boundary Waters and Beyond)

This day ending with its sentinels
of pine pointing towards the
setting sun could have
meant anything,
anywhere,
to
anyone.

But,
to you and
I under the tarp near
the glowing coals of the fire,
it meant sore muscles, blistered
hands and one of the best tasting
dinners I've eaten out of a
pouch in forever.
Well, what
wouldn't
taste

Fabulous
when paired with
lake trout picked up while
trolling towards this point on
the island that gifted us a view of
our own private lake?  This
moment is why I wish
I would have
listened
to you
be

fore, when you told me that we could still find ourselves in the boundary waters canoe area wilderness, even at our age, even having forgotten more about camping than most young people ever imagined they'd learn thank goodness for the air mattress and the forty four pound kevlar canoe.

It is never too late
to remember.

©Timothy James Stouffer 05252017
All Rights Reserved Ely, MN

Poem Silhouetted by Timothy James Stouffer

Silhouetted

Against the last of Winter’s 

remnant, pines strike

a pose familiar.  When 

the skies wouldn’t stop

weeping but couldn’t

agree on flakes or tears,

the sun, brief and frustrated,

settled the matter.

A signature on that first

day of May that fleeting

formed a question mark

in the second morning

and inquiried of us all.  What

do we think

the shadows keep?

Who might the 

light reveal with

its brush under the boughs?

Sifting through the slush

of sunrise, my fingers grow

cold and numb

searching by feel in the thick darkness

for the words to our song

that began with Spring

but has lost itself

against the reflection

of the reaching

Red Pines.

Where is it that the path

leads us two from here?

Like some darkened maw

swallowing the borders

marked so carefully

on the map we hold.

©Timothy James Stouffer 05/02/2017

All Rights Reserved Ely, Minnesota

Fall Comes to the Northland

Yesterday, Steve Piragis and I took a walk along a portage near Ely.  After a day and night of rain, our leaves that had really just begun to deepen in color were falling all around us.  Autumn here in the Northwoods is fickle and comes on fast.  It has no patience for those of us who love it so much and no desire to every hang around as much as we'd like it to.

So, when you have some time, or not, (it is always best to make time) It pays to get outside and relish the oranges, yellows, browns, magentas, reds against the backdrop of green conifers and blue sky.  The yellow in this kevlar Wenonah Spirit II made a cool focal point.

I'm really just along for the ride, but the Piragis Pants and Chota Breathable Waterproof Socks aren't.  They are the real deal and when paired with Chota Caney Fork Portage Boots or Quetico Trekkers, they make perfect sense for your feet during cool water times such right now.  With 5 nights complete with frost already, the waters are fresh with anticipation of being hard in a month and a half if not sooner.  The fish instinctively know this and they are hungry.  The bite is on!

If the beautiful colors aren't enough to entice you into a trip to Ely and the Boundary Waters this Autumn, that should.  Nothing like a fresh fish dinner over the campfire.

Oh, and just because Minnesota is full of surprises, on Sunday, it is supposed to be 76 degrees here in Ely.  Sunshine will never feel so great.

p.s. The next two weekends represent the end of our Outlet Store Season for 2015.  That means less than eight days left for you to save 75% on excellent clothing items in our Outlet Store.  Sale ends when MEA Weekend is over.

The walk in the woods yesterday inspired this poem.

North Country Fall

Leaves are falling,

circling round in their descent

like distant friends might

one day plot a pilgrimage

towards freedom.

Bigtooth Aspens, White Swamp Oaks,

Showy Mountain Ash

Popples and Paper Birches,

Silver Maple; Black Ash,

Pin Cherry, Quaking Aspens

and underneath, Ironwood, Honeysuckle and Anise Hyssop.

Eastern Cottonwoods, Box Elders.

Sugar Maples and a

solitary

Shagbark Hickory, the ugly duckling

amongst a temeritous stand

of Bur Oak.

While the tamarack turn

their backs on their green

coniferous neighbors.

Leafy fingers,

Golden with rust, reach

for the clouds as if 

to pull down the 

snow around their

knobby knees,

before falling selfishly.

Alone, leafless, among all the other

conifers of the North.

Strong smells of woodsmoke

are in the air

and under the raven’s

wing.  Apples burgeon

with Summer’s amorous liquor, heavy

on brown branches that

once blossomed

at the mercy of the same 

visiting winds signaling

the separation of Spring.

Lying on the forest floor

I think of you and how far

and fast I’ve fallen.

In the face of your

fortunate

landing.

@Timothy James Stouffer, 10/09/2015

All Rights Reserved