Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Apparently there was a bad ice storm this winter that caused an awful lot of damage. One trail that I like, Birchtoft, was closed for cleanup. Did note a lot of bowed white and felled yellow birches on Cascade:

Gateway Birch

Gateway to the South.

Bowed Birch Boughs II

(Of course it got me thinking of Robert Frost. Are you kidding? How couldn't it.)
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2 comments:

  1. Dr Bob5/29/09, 4:12 AM

    For me it tends to be Kipling ...


    The Way Through the Woods

    They shut the road through the woods
    Seventy years ago.
    Weather and rain have undone it again,
    And now you would never know
    There was once a road through the woods
    Before they planted the trees.
    It is underneath the coppice and heath,
    And the thin anemones.
    Only the keeper sees
    That, where the ring-dove broods,
    And the badgers roll at ease,
    There was once a road through the woods.

    Yet, if you enter the woods
    Of a summer evening late,
    When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools
    Where the otter whistles his mate.
    (They fear not men in the woods,
    Because they see so few)
    You will hear the beat of a horse's feet,
    And the swish of a skirt in the dew,
    Steadily cantering through
    The misty solitudes,
    As though they perfectly knew
    The old lost road through the woods . . . .
    But there is no road through the woods.


    Hope your toes recover soon!

    Bob

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  2. Be5/29/09, 11:04 AM

    They're both very similar; have to admit that I gained a serious appreciation for Kipling from your contributions to the poetry website.

    ***

    The toes will be fine. Nothing I haven't dealt with before, actually, though the condition is kind of ugly.

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