“If I could put my woods in song
And tell what’s there enjoyed,
All men would to my gardens throng,
And leave the cities void.
In my plot no tulips blow,–
Snow-loving pines and oaks instead;
And rank the savage maples grow
From Spring’s faint flush to Autumn red…”
– My Garden, Ralph Waldo Emerson
“The pond had become a meadow
lush with its own dying: a gristle
of lilies and milfoil, a shallow pan
of wither. So little rain had fallen
that summer. The brook, a small canyon
of mud, bisected the meadow-pond,
unflowing, barely wet…”
© David Troupes
During these hot, dry spells that much of North America has been experiencing, don’t forget to set out water for our feathered friends and other critters. They’re not fussy — most any kind of dish will do if you don’t have a bird bath.
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