Beautiful things, so many beautiful things.
We’ve become regular visitors to the graves.
The neighbor, who has lived here her entire life (along with the rest of her extended family) told me that in the 1870’s there was a diptheria epidemic here and the families lost so many members they filled the graveyard.
There are lots of big field stones stuck into the ground with no markings on them. Graves of which beloved person? The people who might remember are long since gone.
Other grave stones have fallen and become entombed by the forest floor. Some gentle digging through wet leaves, moss, and the first layer of dirt reveals quite a bit.
“George Blakeman born ….1790”
Extremely tiny visitor to the woods filled with graves.
Way back in an overgrown part of the woods we found our cat sitting on this newer looking huge tombstone and yowling.
She’s normally not a vocal cat, and we had no idea she ventured that far into the woods.
This headstone has nothing written on it at all. There’s no path here, we were just clambering through brush and trees, exploring.
The tree nearby had no bark on one side. Why?
To get to this area you have to trek through deep brush, it’s completely walled in by forest.
The nearest clearing in the woods is a field entirely filled with wild daisies.
I am completely overwhelmed by all of the beautiful things.
We live someplace magical.
I can’t believe this is it–this is what I prayed for, hoped for, dreamed for…
All the times I was frustrated and disappointed when other places didn’t work out I never knew this is what we were waiting for.
THE PEACE OF WILD THINGS
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
— Wendell Berry
The rest of these pictures are from my iPhone. I blink, and there is something else magical and beautiful and I just have to quickly snap a photo!
A smiling moth?
This morning, taken from the porch:
Yes. Beautiful things beyond measure.