of solitude
the joys surpass them
when I was lonelier than alone
I missed the conversation going on around me
when merely alone, I don’t miss nearly as much.
I’m an ant crawling in grass
so many stems
only an occasional ray
suggests light
beyond this forest
the weakness and smallness
of humans
across a little creek
on a trail so little used
he’d likely get no comments
the artist had but one to please
a bridge of logs and planks would work
but would not join the grandeur of this place
so with thought of more than function
he pleased my eye today
not just my feet
The roots of an old
pine grasp the ground
as if to say “this is
where I began,”
“this is where I’ll
end.” –
Lois Jones
“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn.” John Muir
If John said that to me I’d follow him anywhere. And I almost did.
Click any picture to enlarge it.
Michael Angerman has prepared a map showing all of my nightly sleeping places, as he has done for my trips many times before. From this you can trace my route. He updates it almost daily. Thank you, Michael. Please click here: Michael's Map
P.S. That was yesterday. This morning I set out again into the wilderness, but came to a closed road. Contrary to the weather forecast, ten inches of snow fell in the night. Here's a picture looking up at where I want to be
I'm here and reading Sharon. Just count me as one of the whispering leaves on your path. I'm reading near 500 books but your photos are the perfect notes in between.
ReplyDeleteYou are present and accounted for, Lois, whispering leaf. Your near 500 books sound in my ear like the near 15 miles I have to go, when I have hiked only one.
DeleteThere was snow on the mountain this morning! Please notice the P.S. I have added to this blog post.
ReplyDeleteon the photo of the bridge- I saw
ReplyDeletebleached bones
the torso dressed
in ferns and moss
for him
who lost his way
a final resting place
Your imagination, Erika, is liberating. I am a bean next to a beanstock.
ReplyDeleteSome of your most beautiful writing here, Sharon. and exquisite photos. love your "fairytale kingdom"
ReplyDeleteLove Lois and Erika responses and poems you inspired too!
It feels like a place of mystery and legend in these deep lowland forests with every hue and shade of green, and hidden things in dark hollows of monster trees. Even if I don't get close to Mt. Olympus with its six glaciers, I'm glad I came.
Delete