I visited my mother in London this week. It’s been very dry there this summer, with little rain and lawns and gardens that are struggling. Most of the days this summer have looked like this. Beautiful for sitting on the porch, not so great for growing things.
Since doing my weather project a couple of years ago, I have become fascinated by the artifacts of humanity that dot the natural landscape outside of cities. Everything from hydro lines and furrowed fields to lonely highways and hiking trails.
This is the school yard I played in at recess when I was very young. To the right is my first elementary school. It’s much larger now from a couple of additions and kids being bussed in.
Between us and the bungalows in the distance, just to the left there, between the trees and the telephone poles in the distance, is a path that leads down into the ravine that we used to refer to as “down the woods.” I can’t count the number of hours we spent down there as kids – exploring, getting muddy, climbing trees, wading in marshy ponds, catching bugs and frogs and spiders.
I walked down there this week for the first time in 20 years.
It’s amazing how much a forest will change when you’re not looking.
I’m here in London visiting mom for the holidays and got up this morning to try to capture the sun coming up over the masses of snow that have fallen here. Much of it has melted, so the great mound of snow that used to cap the gazebo has reduced considerably in size, but there’s still no shortage of the white stuff.