A picture of an evening

Another walk in the mist along the greenest paths I've ever seen here. For a moment, as I look around at the grass and trees, I'm back in England walking through the dewy morning fields. The birds are singing everywhere, and I could walk a thousand miles and not look back once. There's the creek, or is it the Wold, or the Avon? The water shimmers over the rounded rocks and fallen branches, carrying an errant Spring leaf or two along the way, each one looking like a tiny green boat. I stand on the bridge, trying to imprint each part of the whole upon my mind's eye. Maybe later on I' ll try to capture the smallest echo of this beauty with color and brush. But first, a little prayer to thank the Creator of all of these wonders which, in all their splendor, grow pale beside His ravishing Light.