It was a day too lovely to stay indoors, especially with the promise of coming rain. Again. These burnished Indian summer days are numbered, and we won't know which one is the last...until it's past. Discarding our traditional school plans, we headed to the mountain, hoping to gather some bright beauty for coming gray days. Welcomed by golden sentinels lining the gravel road, we were noble royalty on an excursion instead of slightly disgruntled commoners in a very dirty, very old van.
We gathered our supplies (a few containers and various sizes of digging tools) and trekked through the woods in search of treasure.
And we found it. Breathing deeply the rich fragrance of woods wonder, we knelt on plush leaf mold carpet,
filling our coffers with emerald mosses, tiny jeweled fungi, berry gems, and more. So much more.
When our pans were heaped and overflowing, we meandered back to our starting point, spirits restored and restful, our formerly ruffled feathers soothed and smoothed by whispering winds. Our table held our bounty. We were rich and we knew it. Let the feast begin...
No, we did not eat our finds, but we took in their beauty and were nourished. We created and were re-created, refreshed, renewed. It was a feast for our souls.
And this winter, when cold winds blow and snowy blankets hide from us the paths we tramped today, we will gaze at our winter gardens and remember this gem of a day. And our souls will once again be filled.
hummin' B.
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