Visiting the fields, meadows and marshes at Chippokes Plantation
grants a respite from the busy-ness of the day.
Places like this capture the imagination and
remind us of the calm imparted by field and stream.
Poets have long written about the grace of nature
and those who understand its importance,
as in this verse attributed to architect Eric R. Kuhne:
Bring me those who save my forests,
Plant my meadows, guide my streams.
Hands with industry as their purpose,
Minds with visions in their dreams.
Gazing across an open wheat field at the Plantation,
one can feel the rustle of a breeze
and hear the call of distant birds.
Nearby, orderly rows of corn soldier across the field
yet yield to the soft rise and fall of the horizon:
Ye marshes how candid and simple
And nothing withholding and free
Ye publish yourselves to the sky
And offer yourselves to the sea.
If the fields at Chippokes are tender and green in May;
then the hidden marshes are emerald.
Green is a splendid color, said to balance any discord.
Spending time in the green of nature,
by field and stream, always renews one's spirit.
Would that I could gather your houses into my hand
and like a sower, scatter them in forest and meadow.