“Golden Wood” — C.Birde, 3/16
We wore the morning lightly, pearl gray on our shoulders, as we entered the golden wood. Our steps raised small ivory- and lavender-winged moths. Smudge of Bluebird among uplifted branches. (If one should ever alight in my hand and request a portrait, I will gladly oblige.) Song of Red-Winged Blackbird. Chickadee, Titmouse, White-Throated Sparrow. Robin and Nuthatch and Blue Jay.
Gently, the path wandered around roots and over smooth-backed stones. Patches of periwinkle poked through leaf litter, and ferns unfurled green fronds. Trees garbed in tiny floral buds of scarlet, lime-green, pale yellow. Evidence of a reluctant Spring.
“Damp Roots” — C.Birde, 3/16
Creeks slowly remembering themselves, seeping in trickles to fill their beds and the reedy marsh below. The Spring Peepers’ chorus — mere weeks ago, a throb of voices issuing from any damp pocket — now reduced, here and there, to solo artists.
“Skunk Cabbage” — C.Birde, 3/16
Shallow tumble of earthen banks studded with skunk cabbage — sweet fragrance laced the air, but the cabbages made no to claim to its creation. Ribboned among their hooded numbers, a garter snake gathered clouded sunlight.
“Dryad” — C.Birde, 3/16
Ancient dryad bid us good morning, arched stiffened limbs in gesture toward a path through the marsh. Though presently dry, it would not remain so with the season’s continued unfolding.
“Wind in the Reeds” — C.Birde, 3/16
Thus we walked, land dipping slightly. Fringe of greening wood falling back and away, giving way to passable marsh. Skeletal gray trees thrust up through pale interweave. Overhead, clouds gathered, sky brooded. Forest of parchment reeds and grass surrounded, leaning against each other in quickening wind to speak in rasps. We stood amidst that motion, that rustling sigh.
We gathered what we could — in sensation and memory — to store away as need arises. When next we return, our steps will pass over familiar ground, but all will have changed. And as observant as we attempt to be, as present as we will endeavor to be, our limited senses will miss so very much.
“Staring Contest” — C.Birde, 3/16
Nightjars & Damselflies 
The staring contest was exceptional, Carrie. It is my kind of minimalist treat. xo
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Thank you, Sabiscuit — needless to say, the Beech tree won 😉
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Beautiful pictures captured with your camera and those painted in my head after reading your writings 😊😊😊
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Thank you, Anya — it’s gratifying to think my walk might inspire others! 🙂
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Ahhh the delightfulness of Spring! Thanks Carrie –
Linda
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Yes, Linda — it’s a love we both share, isn’t it! 🙂
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you have created a lovely experience with your words and photography. my goodness, “Smudge of Bluebird” is a fresh and delightful way to describe a bird! And I enjoyed how the Ancient Dryad with its “arched, stiffened limbs” so graciously showed you the path to follow. (at my age, i “root” for dryads.) you have done something important and difficult, and that is to enable your readers/viewers to see the world anew.
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Thank you for your kind words, Sanberdooboy! I think, sometimes, a rather large piece of me is afraid that people will forget the importance of our intrinsic connection to Nature, and that this memory lapse increases Nature’s vulnerability. In response, I try to pay even closer attention. But I miss SO much! I’m greedy for sightings and new points of view! And I am delighted — and relieved — that people, such as yourself, echo my response to these images. 🙂
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poets have the important task of making people aware. you can do that in a way that delights. when i read your response i thought of the great author, annie dillard, and her amazing book, pilgrim at tinker’s creek. though she wrote this classic in prose, she has a poet’s heart and ability to see. — michael
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Wow, that book has come up quite a bit recently…I think it’s a sign that I must read it! In the mean time, we must all keep looking 😉
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