The Young Moose

The Young Moose
Taken with motion activated  trail camera in Western Massachusetts;  August 28th at 8 am

Large tracks on the path..partial impressions on  dry leaves.

I  never thought  "moose!"

How did she find  this trail that traces a ridge beyond my house? Where did she come from and what is she hoping to find?

August: When even the weeds are beautiful!

All summer a variety of green weed grows on both sides of our  path leading to the shore of the Lake.
While  I am tempted to pull them all out...they are weeds, after all,  we take such pleasure in their  blanket of white brightening the edge of the woods throughout the month of September.

The Volunteer beside the road.

Greenings

Trees are poems that earth writes upon the sky

Queen Annes Lace

Queen Ann's Lace

Her body is not so white as
anemone petals nor so smooth--nor
so remote a thing. It is a field
of the wild carrot taking
thefield by force; the grass
does not raise above it.
Here is no question of whiteness,
white as can be, with a purple mole
at the center of each flower.
Each flower is a hand's span
of her whiteness. Wherever
his hand has lain there is
a tiny purple blossom under his touch
to which the fibres of her being
stem one by one, each to its end,
until the whole field is a
white desire, empty, a single stem,
a cluster, flower by flower,
a pious wish to whiteness gone over--
or nothing.

William Carlos Williams

Blue Bottle Gentian

Blind Gentian

  William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878)

          To the Fringed Gentian.

    THOU blossom bright with autumn dew, 

    And coloured with the heaven's own blue, 

    That openest when the quiet light 

    Succeeds the keen and frosty night.

    Thou comest not when violets lean 

    O'er wandering brooks and springs unseen, 

    Or columbines, in purple dressed, 

    Nod o'er the ground-bird's hidden nest.

    Thou waitest late and com'st alone, 

    When woods are bare and birds are flown, 

    And frosts and shortening days portend 

    The aged year is near his end.

    Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye 

    Look through its fringes to the sky, 

    Blue—blue—as if that sky let fall 

    A flower from its cerulean wall.

    I would that thus, when I shall see 

    The hour of death draw near to me, 

    Hope, blossoming within my heart, 

    May look to heaven as I depart.

August Grape Vines

Wild Grape Vines

Excerpt:
Wild Grapes, by Robert Frost:

One day my brother led me to a glade
Where a white birch he knew of stood alone,
Wearing a thin head-dress of pointed leaves,
And heavy on her heavy hair behind,
Against her neck, an ornament of grapes.

August Wildflowers

Black Eyed Susan

Caught on the Trail Cam

Video clip from trail camera on three different occasions...