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An unexpected second spate, the roaring leaping water full of fierce joy

#my photos #the trails #creek of colour creek of sound #spate

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A waterfall I've never visited before, hidden away in a deep, narrow valley just below a housing development. I wonder how many people know it's there!

#my photos #the city of crossroads #creek of weirs #spate

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#my photos #creek of colour creek of sound #spate #the trails

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The creek, falling down the hillside

#my photos #creek of colour creek of sound #the trails #spate

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#my photos #the trails #botanicals

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I'm quite fond of garter snakes - I too enjoy basking in the sun!

#my photos #the trails #spring

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The melt is underway

#my photos #the trails #spring

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Through the tamarack swamp

#my photos #the trails #spring

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Alder tangle

#my photos #the trails #the secret light of snow #botanicals

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WORM MOON

by Mary Oliver

1

In March the earth remembers its own name. Everywhere the plates of snow are cracking. The rivers begin to sing. In the sky the winter stars are sliding away; new stars appear as, later, small blades of grain will shine in the dark fields.

And the name of every place is joyful.

2

The season of curiosity is everlasting and the hour for adventure never ends, but tonight even the men who walked upon the moon are lying content by open windows where the winds are sweeping over the fields, over water, over the naked earth, into villages, and lonely country houses, and the vast cities

3

because it is spring; because once more the moon and the earth are eloping — a love match that will bring forth fantastic children who will learn to stand, walk, and finally run over the surface of earth; who will believe, for years, that everything is possible.

4

Born of clay, how shall a man be holy; born of water, how shall a man visit the stars; born of the seasons, how shall a man live forever?

5

Soon the child of the red-spotted newt, the eft, will enter his life from the tiny egg. On his delicate legs he will run through the valleys of moss down to the leaf mold by the streams, where lately white snow lay upon the earth like a deep and lustrous blanket of moon-fire,

6

and probably everything is possible.

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#my photos #the trails #creek of colour creek of sound #botanicals #spate

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The creek, fringed in ice.

It's nice to see the cairns have survived the winter. It was a lonely thought, that they were stranded on their boulder waiting to be crushed by ice or washed away by the spate.

#my photos #the trails #creek of colour creek of sound #spate

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The ruins of winter. This time of year the creek should still be frozen enough to walk on safely, not already past the height of its spate.

#my photos #the trails #creek of colour creek of sound #spate

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This deer must have been just a few steps ahead of me. Not sure what the other tracks are - in person they looked like little hands, so maybe racoon.

#my photos #the trails #the secret light of snow

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The cradle of the hills

#my photos #the trails #the secret light of snow

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The lower bridge, not that there's an upper one anymore! There won't be a lower one much longer either - the river is undercutting the foundation on the right bank, in spite of the bulwark.

#my photos #the trails #the secret light of snow #creek of colour creek of sound

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Rotten ice

#my photos #the trails #the secret light of snow