The Impeded Stream

BrookStudy.1.EH

The impeded stream is the one that sings. ~ Wendell Berry

 

 

March Marsh

This March no lacy edges embroider the frozen lake; no bear paw padded prints in the snow.  Francis Slocum State (PA) Park is greening.  The brooks stumble over worn stones then quietly meander through roots. The table is full and awaits spring’s migrating guests.

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Sisters: Monday Musings

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Dory was rescued six months ago from the night streets of our small town, just a wee handful of curiosity.  Cappy, the eldest dog, quickly asserted his “do not touch me” rule. Luci, on the other hand, delightedly modified doggy games to meet her new toy’s size and age, and willingly accepted the kitten snuggles.  I often find the two curled up, sharing space, snoozing.  Sisters.

 

Hallowe’en, When Fall Meets Winter

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Frost on Dock

Frost on the Dock

Hallowe'en Hills

Hallowe’en Hills

Hallowe'en Sunrise

Sun’s Up on Hallowe’en

Frosted

First Frost 15

The trail crunched under my boots. The maples, in particular, are shedding their amber, garnet, and topaz leaves. Occasionally the sun slid out to highlight the night’s gift–the first crystals of fall. Frosted, marsh grasses and shrubs glistened, a beautiful reminder of winter’s approach.

Frosted Grass

First Marsh Frost.1