Klaus was so lost in his own consuming grief that he did not notice when one of his duck neighbors swam right past him, as she silently crossed the pond on her way home. The startled beaver did not actually see her until she had already glided past, leaving a path of slow trailing ripples upon the water’s surface. And though the mother duck was far too occupied with her own chores to even give the weeping rodent a second thought, her fleeting presence had suddenly made Klaus very overtly self-conscious of his emotional outburst.
A warm light rain began to fall as Klaus sat on his haunches and surveyed the freshly constructed pond. The large beaver found himself staring at a tree that was slowly rotting into the earth nearby. Last autumn, after hours of focused gnawing, the tree had fallen in the opposite direction than had been intended, and was far too large and heavy to be drug into place for the dam. The log was a constant reminder to him that, regardless of your intentions, one never knows how your efforts will turn out.
Anyone who has seen the previous works of Minnesota photographer Ed Wargin knows he has an exquisite eye for beauty. Ed’s numerous books include Lake Michigan: A Photographic Portfolio. This time, he has surpassed himself with an ambitious new endeavor, The Fresh Coast Project. Ed explains that the goal is to assemble a body of artistic and historical photographs on film of the natural and human-made Great Lakes land and waterscapes.