The thrush alone declares the immortal wealth and vigor that is in the forest. Whenever a man hears it, he is young, and Nature is in her spring. Wherever he hears it, it is a new world and a free country, and the gates of heaven are not shut against him. ~Henry David Thoreau
The Wood Thrush. His song floats through the woods between the house and swamp, yet I can never pinpoint his location. An amazing week of cool and damp and wet....keeping black flies away!! While others wish for sun and warmer temperatures, I am grateful for a week without the annoying pests to get some yard work done,
grateful for damp earth revealing tracks of deer which share the path through the woods,
...... grateful for the intensity of the shades of green!