Fall is off to a magnificent start here on the hill, and I am determined that we'll not be allowing a single moment of it to slip away without our being in the midst of it all.
At day's end, it will be a front row seat for Millie and me to watch the spectacular sunsets being offered now, free for the taking. And what is that front seat, you may ask? Well, a picture is worth a thousand words they say, so here goes...
It's the same ole log on which we sat earlier to listen to the whippoorwills' calls, and later on, to the sweet songs of the summer tanager. Yesterday, a late evening breeze blew across my face and ruffled my hair as we sat watching the spectacle of the setting sun. My cup truly did runneth over...
There was a visitor to the garden yesterday, and oh, what a beauty it was. Even though I have already ripped out and cut back most of summer's flowers, I was happy that it found something satisfactory upon which to dine.
Thoreau definitely had the right idea when he went to the woods to live "to learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived..."
I sketched and painted in watercolors this young naturalist, thus adding another entry in the Journal that seems to go on forever. He seems to be quite young here, but then he would for he died a young man. He is well-dressed here even though he scorned wearing fine clothing. Of course, he would not be wearing such a fine suit there at water's edge on Walden Pond.
I know this old hill is a place I have photographed before...but even now I must do it again and again. Each picture seems different in one way or another from all the others. It is a place that I love.
"The way I'd like to go on living in this world wouldn't hurt anything. I'd just go on walking uphill and downhill, looking around, and so what if half the time I don't know what for ~"