Thursday, August 4, 2016


It was an odd thing, to venture away from the regular trails. The last time I went that way I ended up covered in poison ivy for all the three, even four foot tall sheer mass of wild growth I happened into. What had started as a regular enough detour turned into a bit of a nightmare. I remember even one of the dogs stopping to look at me as if to say, Are you serious? - What do you want us to do with this? - So far into the thick of it we had gone.
But now, - weeks and weeks after that, - I noticed the farmer had mowed with some skill and care, atop a medium sized or small tractor, - those paths. They are wide, they are clear, they are fresh, and they are welcoming. And…they are, to me, - new again. I had no expectations- just to wander,- and to circle back in not too long,- following my inner compass- which is not great,- but seems to work at least satisfactorily out there as of late. So there we went- amidst the tall trees, the blue sky peaking out here and there, a white cloud, - some birds, - and as of late, - the butterflies that seem to have been following me.

Then we went down a bit of a slope and there they were. All kinds of lush and wonderfully  wild and overgrown raspberry plants. They had black berries and raspberries both- and though I have not researched it, - I am assuming that they are some kind of hybrid tree. I realized after, - I should have tasted the black ones- to see if they taste like raspberries- or a mix. I like raspberries, - as most people do, - but I don’t have much of a fondness for blackberries. But they are as a rule larger- and look juicier.

A blackberry build with a raspberry taste would be just the thing!

I was too busy trying to get a good photograph- one or two that would express the beauty of
these berries, - even the thorns! - Against the black and verdant background, - with the sun shining just so on carefully constructed leaves.

After walking around some more- we left the magical feeling area and the fairy tale-like berry trees. We went down under the shaded paths, along the ridge way of the valley. There was a woodpecker, and he had a splash of red feather on the top of his head, - smaller than in the cartoon, - but there, there. And he didn’t fly away- he was busy working.

On we ventured. Soon enough we were out of it all. 

Good enough.


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