a country weekend

After the four hour drive, up Weaver Hollow Road, then a steep plunge down to our house.

frog pond at dusk

 I walk the property, making sure all is well.

buttercups, rocks, lichen and brook

the blue hills of the western Catskills

forget-me-nots

 Water and wildflowers, wildflowers and water.

the waterfall

 Wandering, gazing, pondering.

frog pond by day

orange hawkweed a/k/a devil's paintbrush

Ferns, lichen, moss. Stones, bluets, blackberries. Every day in the same places I would seen new things, things anew. There were friends and family, lovingly prepared meals, country roads, farmers markets, my favorite used books store, a gallery opening for a dear friend. I exhale, take a deep breath, breathe.

wandering

Out walking last weekend, 

I reminded myself to stop and look, really look.

I saw lichen that reminded me of coral,

 small cave-like openings in slabs of bluestone 

(who lives in there?)

so many shapes and shades of green

patterns in the water

(and a frog--can you see her?)

I was delirious with wildflowers

and then I read crazy-wonderful memoir

Cocktail Hour Under the Tree of Forgetfulness by Alexandra Fuller 

my mind wandering (in great company)

 through Kenya, Rhodesia/Zimbabwe, and Zambia...

More about it here and here.

wondering

When I go to the country I spend as much time outside as I can--walking, wandering, wading, gazing, daydreaming.

As though I'm trying to memorize it--the endless beauty, fascination, variations, permutations, the magnificence of nature--and carry it within.

As though somehow I will learn from it, become closer to the person I want to be.

weekend wandering

Where you might find me when I'm not at the store:

morning coffee here

after work nap here

reading here

or here

wading 

wandering

never underestimate the importance of wandering