If you examine the photos that I've taken over the years, you'll
find that a number of them are of my feet. It makes little sense
because my feet are not that attractive and I'm not even
a big fan of feet . . . other than baby feet.
Lacy greens frame our narrow brook.
No feet here. . .
The last time I checked, this A-frame was still vacant,
but that is no longer the case. I think I'll whip up a suet
cake and introduce myself to the new residents.
A small bridge allows access to one of the back fields. The names and
footprints of the children who lived here when it was built are permanently
engraved in the bridge. Their names were "Red," Sue, and Don. Red
was born with a hole in his heart and he collapsed and died outside
(somewhere near the barn) when he was just an adolescent.
When I am in need of de-stressing, I head out back. And
this is some of what I see: a mixture of colorful wildflowers,
berry-laden bushes, sticky brambles, trees and weeds of all shapes
and sizes, and rocks and boulders. Water bugs glide along the
surface of the brook that flows gingerly beneath it all.
(All of these photos were taken with my
iPhone yesterday evening.)