Walk in the woods

As the river rose, Walker and I walked up the old road to check on the town water well located along the oxbow between the upper and lower falls. Still some snow and ice on the north side of the roadbed and water thundering over the falls. Buds on the beech and apple have swollen, almost bursting.


I love this old pine with the barbed wire coming through the wood, the crevices filled with dried needles.

Along the stone wall were numerous common mullein, a plant that reminds me of donkey ears, soft and fuzzy that later in the summer sport tall shafts of yellow flower. 

Out of this stump grow lichen, a hemlock, and a new bright green pine.

Little Trillium, ready to bud into its dark crimson flower, scatter the hillside.

Dandelion poke up through the leaves - an old spring tonic when boiled, tender greens when blanched.

As eager as the plants are to spring upwards out of the woods' duff, I'm more eager to see them.