A once mighty tree. So much character in this worn and ragged wood. So many storms weathered.
Fern shadows. I walk through the woods at dusk, it is both light and dark. Mysterious and quiet. Crickets. Birds. My feet against the pine needles.
Indian Pipes. I think of N. Her death just one week ago. That is part of the quiet now. She was a great talker and story teller. The Irish in her.
The well at dusk. I make a wish. I thank the universe for the beauty of the earth, the warmth of my friends.
Collapsing stone wall. Hmm, what people would pay for those authentic stone wall rocks.
Another grand boulder. Like some ancient elephant hide.
Boundary marker. Dare I step beyond?