Ode to a trail
My favorite trail, and the one I built to access it, are both gone. I never could get enough photos of this trail. Maybe because I kept trying to capture something that wouldn’t be captured: the leaves making their slow return in spring; the green of the summer sword fern, taller than my grandsons; the way the sun slanted through the alder trees; the golden leaves floating through the branches in autumn; the fog hanging in the canopy; the owl that flew across the trail in front of me; the snow clinging to everything. Season after season. My heart hurts so bad.
Writing Down the Story 
That is such a violation. I feel your pain.
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Sigh. So sad. Thank you being in it with me, Jan. This too shall pass, I suppose.
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That sucks . . . . .
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It sure does.
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Sometimes the “all things must pass” deal is just a rotten one. Hard to see any silver linings.
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It sure is.
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I love how you captured it in every season. Pretty sad day, but I’m really happy you made it special while it was yours*
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I scrolled back through photos for two years; I’m sure there are more!
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