From Screen Saver

One afternoon in late March Joe and I and one of his friends, a kid named John, were standing on the deck outside the kitchen of the house looking out at the lake.  It had been that time of year when the floor of the deciduous forest in which the house had been built had begun to have a beautiful life of its own.  Everywhere thrusting up through the decay of last year’s leaves were trilliums, and all the various other small green fronds and stalks that made the forest floor look as if it had become a jungle on a tiny scale.  The trees themselves had still been barren of leaves and, since it had been a sunny day the whole tiny green expanse of new things on the forest floor were washed in sunlight shadowed only slightly by the trunks of the walnuts, hickories and various types of oak that sloped down the hillside to the shore of the lake.

 

April 2008

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  • Walk Ten
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