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.