In loving memory of Irene Nancy Nelson
Reflections on The Garden of Evening Mists
by Tan Twan Eng
I have entered the garden of evening mists
The quiet between memory and forgetfulness.
Outside the grayscale world
announces a frigid, socked-in sunrise
What of the Yup'ik words for snow
describes every surface laden -
The deck overlooking our grey
and white ribboned Chilkat at low tide
The railing and Adirondack chairs freshly cushioned,
abandoned for the season
Sentries of Sitka spruce
bowing ever so slightly to the south
We hunker down inside, trying to keep warm
Planning for spring, growing our own food
Harvesting sea weed, subsistence fishing
Smoking wild salmon,
putting up the fruits of our labor,
The bounty of this great land
I wonder how anyone can fail to see
The magnificence of Nature's gifts
Squander her resources
For a temporary wealth
Power lives beyond recognition
Is this the fading that drives us to sunset?
