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"In every walk with nature one receives far more than one seeks." ~ John Muir
On the far side of those trees is a place called "the Grotto". There is a stream and a pasture surrounded by some stately old overhanging pine trees. A green and growing cathedral were some old kitchen chairs are secreted behind the low hanging limbs of those massive trees standing as gaudeians. Thier overhanging limbs screen out the everyday world,and smell so good in the warm spring sun, even better than the fresh smell of earth. There was an old kitchen chair further out into the meadow, but weather and use have reduced it to interesting looking bits of wood half buried in the ground. There must have been a house here at one time, at least i think so, because there are a few old bottles inreek bank. I have no interest in digging them out. I don't think i should either. If there are any other signs that there was once a house in this peaceful place they are long gone. Perhaps I am not the only person to have enjoyed this spot, stopped here on his way to and from work in the woods or the mines. Some one who knew who also sought the solace and solitude of trees.
Cirrus clouds , and a blue sky, a background to watch the birds of prey at work, as they soar gracefully and dive with a vengeance, then ascend back into the sky. The Masters of the sky are the scavengers of the of last years brutally cold and snowy winter.
Winter was long, bitter cold with days and days of snow accumulating. Walking in deep snow is much more like exercise than it is contemplative rambling. This short walk from my home, it was not a trip i would make often.
Today is different, a supernatural feeling that winter had dropped from my shoulders and spring is truly here wrapping itself around me. The warmth of the sun is something i have missed. Winter weary, i most certainly am! The sun warming my soul, reassuring me, as it did the Ancients that it's warmth and light is returning.
So i will sit here for awhile, thinking, day dreaming , in wonder of those who were here before me, of the stores they told and the stories of everyday things they past down to me {we}.
