I once heard somebody compare the speed of a life to driving down a highway. The years go by at the rate of an occasional side road as a youth, then like power poles, and eventually they fly by as quickly as fence posts. It may be more a matter of perspective and memory but it sure does seem like the years are speeding up with age. As if the years seeming to whiz past as quickly as fence posts wasn’t bad enough the days at a resort in the summer fly by like pebbles on the shoulder of the highway in the form of a barely discernible blur. It feels like we are traveling at the speed of light sometimes in the summer here at Clearwater, which means I am aging less though, thats how it works right? With the 16 hours of light there still isn’t enough time in the day, and even a short list at the beginning of the day can be a challenge to complete with everything that comes up when all our beds are full. The pace of a day during the peak season is truly a blessing and a curse though. I think the feeling of a day flying by as they do this time of year means you’ve truly lived in it, but at the same time as quickly as a moment of reprieve and reflection comes it goes and you can never guarantee when you’ll get it back. The balance of time given to others and taken for yourself in the summer greatly skews to the former but is made up for by the long personal moments of winter. This balance is what keeps me coming back year after year. Just when I don’t think I can’t handle another vehicle pulling into our parking lot in October the season is over, and just when I am starting to wonder about the existence of other life forms in late March a fresh season is upon us, and I am ready and excited for it. The concept of the pace at which a day or a life passes to an individual being different than somebody else’s even with a standard measure of time has always intrigued me. Right now I know it’s happening, it’s flying by and I am going to try and focus on one of those pebbles for just a second before it’s gone.
Sometimes the high speed of summer slows other things down. This blog was written a sentence every 30 minutes over the course of a day so that must mean…uh sorry I’ll have to get back to you sounds like some folks are here for a shuttle to Grand Portage.