Spring is here, they tell me — and I’m collecting signs of it avidly this year. Outside the porch window someone is calling, the quick jiminy-jiminy-jiminy I think may be a Carolina wren …
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Freedom of body and freedom of mind (October 15 newsletter)
High on Pine Cobble the color is deepening. When I climbed up a few days ago, the maple and beech and birch were in a glow, and I wandered along the ridge for awhile just breathing. In 20 years I had never walked the class of ’98 trail.
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Shadblow on Pine Cobble
‘Are these shad blow? Because they’re all over up here.’ I ask my mother, because she taught me shad bush, serviceberry, years ago, walking the plank walk in the marshy hollow of the woods at the end of our street. But today I ask her by phone, because I’m standing halfway up Pine Cobble.
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Golden fall on Pine Cobble Trail
If I was catching my breath, it wasn’t from the climb. It was from the color. I’m not sure I have ever seen anything as beautiful as this hillside today on Pine Cobble.
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