Yesterday’s hike began at a cornfield that even in winter brings the phrase amber waves of grain to mind. In this place there’s also a purple mountain majesty, with a set of trails protected from the prevailing winds.
Sun poured through the tears in the stratocumulus blanket. Flurries swirled intermittently; snow diffracts light differently than rain, so no rainbows. This nearly vertical hike is impossible in summer - too many bugs - and usually not navigable when it’s icy.
Venus was visible in the pre-dawn sky. It’s flurrying again. Red-winged black bird is back, so are the parasitic cowbirds.
I woke thinking about Rachel Carson.
I’ve been toying with the idea of writing about her.
I plan to be outdoors by 1:26 PM, so I’ve got just a few hours to accomplish as much as I can. My hand is still stiff and swollen, but the pain is gone. I am grateful.