I dragged my red chair half way 'round Mill Pond to escape
the smell of cigarette smoke from teens, proably playing "hookie"
from school. I dropped my chair in the dried leaves near the edge
of the pond and immersed myself in the fragrance of dead leaves,
gentle warm breezes and lively chatter from water fowl swimming
lazily in the rippled waters.

I thought "I am home," as I marveled at the place I chose to rest
and partake of my Andrew Wyeth biography book. Distracted at times
by the simple beauty of a tree stump, partially clothed in a gorgeous
patterned moss, I envisioned a lone red goblet sitting uncomfortably
on the stump, as the late afternoon light brought all elements together
to create an imaginary photograph.

I then made a sketch of the unique scene I had in my head with intensions
of returning "tomorrow" in order to complete the plan with my camera.

Rusty red leaves adorned dried branches with a backdrop of gray/blue water,
rippled with dark brown beyond. Golden light brightened the leaves with
many magical droplets of color and I was eager for my camera.

Above, the tree branches had a fascinating play of moving shadow, which
could be seen only when wind moved the pond's waters. My gaze rested
on a small squirrel, walking the tightrope of metal fencing around the
Mill Pond pool. Small dots of red berries brightened the dying foliage
while downed tree limbs from last week's "storm of the trees" dared to
compromise the landscape.

This is the place I need. So simple to stumble upon and priceless in its
healing.

Preparing to leave my paradise, a small red leaf settled on my lap and I
gently placed it in Andrew Wyeth's biography book to cement today's memories
and to remind me of my connection to this man in the book and his
all-consuming love of the small things of nature.

shu