Fallen But Not Finished
In the woods, among large trees, the trail takes a turn, and in late afternoon the dappled light reveals a fallen giant. With massive limbs supporting the broken trunk, holding it high above the ground, it appears to be struggling to get back up, as if too proud to simply collapse to the floor.
The Most Civil Society
I agree with Stevenson. When I start upon a woodland trail, I feel that I am entering very civil society indeed. The trees are friendly and welcoming. The small creatures of the wood scurry all about, rustling leaves, stopping to stare curiously but unperturbed about sharing their living space. Bushes and boughs wave companionably as I wander past. The trees towering above offer me shade and shelter, as well as beauty and comfort.
Anniversary Sky
On October 15th, 1978, Wanda and I were married. We were engaged only three weeks, but we had spent more than four years falling in love. It was absolutely amazing to me that when I finally said, "Will you?" she said, "Yes!" I knew then, and have known ever since, that I was the luckiest man in the world.
Driftwood
The course that brought this driftwood here has been long and twisted. Once, it stood strong among a family of trees. But as it aged, it was beaten by wind and storm, until the strain brought it down, broken, to the ground. Relentless, the waters pushed and battered it, sending it tumbling against rocks, catching and clinging for awhile, then torn loose again by the pounding water, until it was disgorged with the stream to lie here upon the shore.
Ripples In Still Water
I sat gazing across Jordan Pond in Acadia, under stunning blue sky, with sunshine that did not provide warmth against the continuous chilly breeze blowing across the lake. I was watching the ripples march across in front of me, with the cold sunlight filtering through to make dancing waves of brightness and shadow across the rocks beneath the clear water. As I watched the ripples, my eyes clouded, and my inner ear heard the song lyrics: