Friday, 10 July 2009


The autumn colours came in October. Every day I could see some new trees on the other side of the Mississippi, first a yellow shift, a sort of warning, and then the bright red flush that lasted a couple of days, before dying in a dull brown.

Nina was still in Norway, working, while I stayed in Portage des Sioux alone; writing, walking, waiting.

I thought about the autumn colours following the Mississippi like a flame down south. And I thought about the coming winter, the cold temperatures we would get instead.

I was walking and waiting. I could hear the soft honking of ducks or geese, following the Mississippi south.

I looked across the endless fields of corn. It was hard to imagine that Missouri River flooded this area some years back. I couldn't even see the Missouri from where I was standing. But still; the strong Missouri crossed the endless fields and flooded Portage des Sioux in waist-deep water and whirling eddies, before entering the Mississippi, and combine forces for more flooding further down.

There's a lot of water and history that comes together in this area. I was reading about Lewis and Clark, and how the natives considered Lewis to be without a spirit; too restless and industrious to have a soul. The new linear time was cutting like a knife through a seemingly endless circle of seasons. And where were they heading? The natives didn't understand. It sounded like a spiritual journey but was not. Why hurry towards the sunset? How can you be late for a mountain? And if there is such a thing as an endless lake; wouldn't it always be there?