Great Brook Farm State Park, Carlisle, Massachusetts
Back in the woods.
After the palettes of petals and wings,
into the playground of lights and shadows.
Sprinkled with mushrooms.
These humble hats.
Raise from the soil,
pushing through the layers of needles and leaves.
Never mind the rocks, will find the way.
As if the whole place is their's to enjoy.
IS IT ?
Makes me smile...
Great Brook Farm State Park, Carlisle, Massachusetts
Hiding in the woods on this hot day...
Great Brook Farm State Park, Carlisle, Massachusetts
Flowers, on their way.
Coloring, attracting all the eyes.
Some by chance,
others by intent.
Those golden gifts,
to share and uphold their lives...
Great Brook Farm State Park, Carlisle, Massachusetts
Nothing much is going on along the cornfield.
At least, it seems so.
Except the swallows.
Turning, twisting, in their graceful flyovers
just above our heads,
then landing on these muddy tracks.
Doesn't go together, does it?
Unless looking for the stuff for their nests.
And
they are doing just that...
Great Brook Farm State Park, Carlisle, Massachusetts
Hummingbirds.
In so many ways they are a never-ending delight.
The smallest birds,
with the highest metabolism of all animals,
enabling them to hover while feeding on the nectar of flowers.
And then I see them,
and hear their humming among Cardinal Flowers,
in the real world...
Great Brook Farm State Park, Carlisle, Massachusetts
Jovial chirps from deep in the branches.
I can see the yellow, about there.
Yes
they are here
to bring the sunny warmth to our cool days,
and
announce the coming summer...
Great Brook Farm State Park, Carlisle, Massachusetts
Cornfields are blank, young corns not in sight, still below the ground.
Yet the soil looks ready,
with the notes, as a nudge to a passer-by not to intrude.
Bluebirds flutter across,
and do not mind having these note posts around.
Good spots to take a brief rest...
Great Brook Farm State Park, Carlisle, Massachusetts
Just awaken from the winter sleep...
Great Brook Farm State Park, Massachusetts
We have felt that we almost alone hereabouts practiced this noble art;
though, to tell the truth,
at least if their own assertions are to be received,
most of my townsmen would fain walk sometimes, as I do, but they cannot.
No wealth can buy the requisite leisure,
freedom, and independence which are the capital in this profession.
It comes only by the grace of God.
It requires a direct dispensation from Heaven to become a walker...
HENRY D. THOREAU, Walking
