Lone Tree Hill, Belmont, Massachusetts
A butterfly, flapping, from flower to flower...
Here I am, resolute to stand still and wait,
in the hope that she will find a nous for repose so I can enjoy her wings.
But she never does, just flutters away,
in tune with summer meadows...
Assabet River National Wildlife Refuge, Massachusetts
The place where life loves water and the rain is welcomed.
Water lilies are in bloom,
those white petals, the stardust of ponds, always come close.
Otter Alley is flooded, I can hear the water flowing over.
There are some wobbly branches acting as a pass through, not convincing, but...
hey, we are here, a touch of water won't hurt.
I wonder what would the Otter make of this scene ?
No-Name Pond, where Assabet River is born - true start, Westborough, Massachusetts
I first saw the little pond in the full green warmth of June...
It is but a mile from the dismal reservoir...
a tiny blue bean on the USGS Shrewsbury quadrangle...
The source of the Assabet River is defined by the United States Board of Geographic Names
as Latitude 42° 15' 15'' and Longitude 71° 40' 30'',
which lies at the confluence of the stream from this pond and another coming in from the east...
Edwin has suggested the pond as the proper source,
and I agree out of pure sentiment:
here, in this charming place, is the proper beginning for a river...
ANN ZWINGER and EDWIN WAY TEALE, A Conscious Stillness
Assabet Reservoir (Mill Pond), Westborough, Massachusetts
Dammed in 1970 to prevent flooding, this wall has stopped Assabet in her baby steps,
recasting the river into the pond,
where plants, birds, and others have found an idyllic place to stay.
There is a hole in the wall through which some water is allowed to move-on
and this point they call the start of Assabet... not a romance,
but a give-and-take that enriches,
giving water and taking a piece of life that she has helped create.
All these flowers, dragonflies, dreamy ducks, nesting Ospreys,
and Cormorants,
drying their wings over there,
they are all Assabet...
Veterans Freedom Park, Westborough Conservation Land, Massachusetts
Over here, imbued with delight,
the colors and patterns weave through, meet each other in wind swirls.
Homey aliens on these grounds,
the result of persistent farming by the colonists who decimated indigenous woodlands.
Hence the meadows,
a whole host of life, flourish in their own right.
Except they cannot survive without human help,
since the trees have always taken chances to return to their native parcels.
And so it goes, nature gets along with humans, sometimes...
