From the parking lot across macadam heated by a constant, summer sun and ornamented with circling, muttering flies, we crossed past the gate to the wooded path worn down by other feet and hooves of deer. It descended at a slight pitch to a cornfield apparently abandoned except for a doe and her twins indifferent to our quiet observation and clicking shutters A stream became evidenced through its melodic interruption of the still… a still that held and caught our breaths. The cool, moist shift in temperature raised goose bumps and the speed at which we hiked downward to The Glen The late summer had tamed this progression of water over inorganic stone that now suggested existence as cascading molecules crashed into each other and those combing mosses, brachythecium rivulare, a green so potent, so verdant, that Eden swelled. Other hikers were at the water’s edge calling to their Golden Retriever (who could blame her) for she had taken a plunge into the cold. Fern laced the top of the path with broken light and dancing patterns, laced against eastern pine and diseased hemlocks. That constant slap of current had cut cylindrical holes and even sharper hollows into the hardness pushed upward by continental shifting Deeper into the day’s darkness. we walked and climbed primeval, elemental views and the feel of slippery earth.
Wanderings and Reflections