Went for a cold hike through the local bog to see if the land was waking up yet for spring. The spirit of the place was still dormant, though I saw some Canadian geese migrating high in sky, like distant spring alarms trying to keep everyone on schedule.
The locals call this place the "Myr," (pronounced MEER) which is a Swedish word for peatland. It's open to the public, but nobody's ever there. It's protected by the government, but also by nature, because it is inaccessible for a large portion of the spring and summer due to flooding, thick vegetation, and hoards of flies and mosquitos.


















