Serenity

Hubby and I took a walk after supper to take advantage of the beautiful spring evening. When we got to the end of the street, instead of turning left, I suggested we go along the bike path, so we turned right onto St. Francis, then into the park, past the ice rink where the ground had turned to sludge, past the plastic-shrouded beach volleyball courts, and into the woods toward the river. We met with two wet patches, the first one just slightly damp really, but the second one had a couple of branches overlaid to make crossing a bit dryer. We managed, barely. The lower lying areas in the woods are still full of melt water, but this is where the best fiddleheads will be found next month.

I hadn’t been along there since last fall when there were still leaves on the trees. Without the foliage, you can see how many fallen branches and dead trunks are among the living. The river is high right now and alternating wafts of warm and cold air caressed us as we strolled along. The stream crossed by a wooden bridge is still filled with ice and unmelted snow, very interesting formations that made me wish I had brought my camera with me. Tomorrow morning I must remember to go and photograph them before they disappear forever.

I love the evenings here. This is when the thrushes can be heard in the woods. Soon the white-throated sparrows will be joining them. What a life.

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