I took myself back to the woods at Webster Park yesterday because, as I told my friend Dan, "It may not be good for the allergies, but it is good for the soul." It was a slow walk, soaking in the sights and sounds. I took two camera lenses this time, one for bigger scenes and one to catch what would otherwise be invisible.
I did not walk to the campground this time, but circled the back edge of the park and a few trails just outside the perimeter, the West Trail and the Midnight Trail and a few unnamed and off the beaten path. I was blessed to capture tiny birds, a little red squirrel, and three deer. (For those concerned, although there is no hunting allowed within the park and it isn't yet shotgun season.)
I stopped twice down by the lake, once before and once after my walk. I was sitting on the stone beach collecting lake glass when I heard a voice behind me and turned to see my friend Gail. "I wondered if you'd be here," she said. Sometimes I am surprised by how well she knows me. Once my pocket was full of glass and my stomach was rumbling at being empty, I finally headed home for the evening.
It was another simply beautiful day.