Just a little beyond our cabin lies a rock wall, tumbling down and filled with crooks and crevices where our chipmunk friends play hide and seek.
Nothing more than a pile of rocks covered with sweet, green velvet moss.
But within these rocks, I know there is a story....
Who built this wall?
How long ago?
What were their lives like?
What did the woods look like then?
Along the path to the pond, lies this rusted bucket. I refuse to move it.
I like to walk past and think about its previous owners.
These woods were not always ours nor will they always be.
I am always awestruck by the curiousity of the human soul.
To wonder so much and care so deeply about a person and a family we have never seen, have never meet- the history of this place, the magic of the forest, connecting us together.