The music began with the crunching of slate and dirt under my shoes,
as I made my way down the access road that would lead me to my
constant and sympathetic friend,Pine Log.Pine Log's sympathy
means so much to me for it has been around so long,and has
seen so much.The stories it could tell! The pictures it could paint!
Pine Log in July is a mature Pine Log.The days of its infancy has past.
Its thinking has changed,it wears a new set of clothes.The tenderness
of spring has past.Left only,are etched memories of impatient green
and gold buds,luminous green leaves,angelic bluebells,and most
importantly,the palpable magic that hangs in the new air of spring.
I sat on the familiar bench overlooking a slow moving,elegant,in a
primal way,Pine Log. The most magnificent aerial concert came
floating out across the methodical waters.Warbles,tweets,and calls,
in different tones,different decibels,different ranges,all at once,yet
wonderfully synchronized,captivating,comforting.
A mature Pine Log,instead of lamenting what was to come,
was showing me how to observe and enjoy the moment.
I sat,consoled,soothed, renewed,on the banks of a mature
Pine Log,and I too, felt mature.
