secret

come sit

“The Secret Garden was what Mary called it when she was thinking of it. She liked the name, and she liked still more the feeling that when its beautiful old walls shut her in no one knew where she was. It seemed almost like being shut out of the world in some fairy place. The few books she had read and liked had been fairy-story books, and she had read of secret gardens in some of the stories. Sometimes people went to sleep in them for a hundred years, which she had thought must be rather stupid. She had no intention of going to sleep, and, in fact, she was becoming wider awake every day which passed at Misselthwaite.”

― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

Iron and stone

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How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood,
When fond recollection presents them to view!
The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood,
And every loved spot which my infancy knew!
The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it,
The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell…
                                                                                                                                                                                   ~Woodworth

the old grist mill
where as kids, my parents would bring us
on occasional Sundays to explore
and watch as the grains were ground into flour
and where my school art class came to picnic
and sketch
and where my husband and I had our wedding pictures taken

so much history here

 

eye candy

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Sunday afternoon at Indian Head Farm
where I felt like a kid in a candy shop
surrounded by all this amazing color
and Monarch butterflies at every turn

 

 

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while all these blossoms will soon be fading
they will be replaced by the vibrant fall foliage

as for the winter…

I have bookmarked this post
so that I may revisit here
some dark, cold, snowy, day
in January

for a little reminder that
 color will return again!

pining

got cones?

pining

got cones?

oh my
I’m afraid we will be raking
a whole lot more than leaves
this fall!