Ephemera

Came back to Inuvik yesterday after a five-day whirlwind trip to Edmonton to take in the teachers’ conference. I was moaning and groaning and lamenting having to return to the frigid north, only to step off the plane at the airport to be welcomed by a vast blue sky and to feel the golden rays hit my face, dissipating all self-pity instantaneously.

On my way back to work during lunch hour today, I took a few photographs to capture this day that was large with promise, beauty, and potential. Today is the day I let the wonder and awe of the town leap to the forefront, overshadowing all the desolation that usually confronts me in equal parts.

In Edmonton, I attended a lecture put on by Dr. Darlene Lim, a paleolimnologist, on climate change in the north. I can’t help but think that all of this is ephemeral, these rows of houses, these utilidors, this field of snow, perhaps even this wide open sky. Even in my brief time here, I’ve noticed the tremendous changes that have occurred in Inuvik. The little woods that I used to pass by on my way to and from work every day are now a treeless lot awaiting construction. In another generation or two, both the natural and synthetic aspects of the town will have transformed into something completely unrecognizable.

I yearn for the passion that Dr. Lim seemed to have. I live here, and I instinctively care about this land, but what am I doing to give hope? I’m taking pictures, turning my face up to the sun – maybe that’s enough. It’s a quiet, internal revolution. As long as I continue to appreciate, there’s hope.