The Left Turn

After my excursion on the "road less traveled,"

I crossed back over the Chickahominy Bridge.

It's funny how differently things look when one's physical perspective changes.

The view to the south revealed a few long wooden piers stretching out into the water.

I hadn't noticed them when I was walking north over the bridge, 

nor had I noticed before the sun sparkling on the river 

like so much glitter cast on the water.

As I walked back toward the beaten path, I saw this old barn with a gambrel roof:

A little further a lone horse grazed in a pasture along the river.

The scene is pastoral and picturesque. 

I can't imagine having this as one's view every day, 

but it would be tranquil.
It would be lovely to walk across this meadow
 as the summer sun was climbing in the eastern sky.
I could just visualize the mist rising, the dew twinkling in the sunlight,
and the warming rays of the bright yellow sun
as it casts soft shadows across the land.

But my revelry ended as my footsteps drew me back to the present.
I walked further down the trail, to these cattails
growing in a wet, low spot and already bursting:

I always thought the brown cattails were solid,
until the time my husband showed me how to make
the cattail "fur" fly off into the air by sliding our hands over the spikes.
Their was something childishly fun about sending the cattail seedlings
wafting out over the breeze.

Not far from the cattails, dried foxtails massed
as tawny as dried wheat stalks after the harvest.
The winter winds will eventually flatten the dried stalks into thick mats
that will hold the snow.

After my "left turn," so many of the sights along my path
were adorned in colors of green and gold.
But as I walked on toward the forest,
the more varied  the colors in the landscape appeared.
Although many of the leaves have not yet changed here,
what I saw told me that more autumn color is on its way.
Tomorrow, some of the vibrant fall leaves along the trail.
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