"Wetlands #3", watercolor
The wood stove creaks as I write today. A late morning fire warms the house and
cold rain soaks into newly dug garden beds. I sit at my upstairs writing nook quietly admiring the yellow-green leaves of beech and birch - a shocking contrast to the
darker hemlock hues. Spaces left empty since fall are filled again as the deciduous
trees burst into leaf. Miraculous variations of greens weave between unfurling
rust-edged maple leaves. As May slips gently past, I find myself wandering in the woodland, enchanted by delicate flowers and the most magical songs of
My dear friend, Bob, and his partner, Mabel visited last week from California. We
went to the Chesterfield Gorge to admire the swift flowing river, high cliffs and
amazing rock outcroppings. The path meanders along high above the river.
Eventually, the path opens onto the view of the river as it leaves the gorge. Often
one sees fishermen in the shallows below. This day however, we were alone to
listen to river songs and distant raven quarks.
Looking back upriver, we notice the huge, quartz boulders eroded from an intrusion
long, long ago,
and the sheer face of the cliffs on the other side. I imagine the bobcats love it here.
Tree roots grabbing onto stone remind me of temples in
Cambodia being reclaimed by the jungle.
Amazing evidence of ledge turned on end:
Stone outcroppings with lots of nooks and crannies for critters.
Caves and a stone lean-to along the path show evidence of fort-making.
I would have loved to play here as a child....
I think I must return to this small dwelling someday to leave some enchantment...
It would have been the perfect house for my little Stieff bears who occupied the
bookshelf in my room when I was a child. I think my bears would have much preferred