We love this place.
The wildflowers, the old foundations, the mossy streams cutting across the trail in places. The beavers, whose progress transfigures the pond at the top each season. Last year, a thicket of alder and birch and beech ringed the whole pond, which was maybe twenty feet across. Now the thicket has become a dam holding back a semi-lake.
We stopped in town on our way home. I stepped into an antiques store and bought an old photo of a formally dressed woman about to saddle a mule. Patrick had a short beer at the local watering hole, and we purchased a pint of Ben and Jerry's to share on the car ride home. It was a great day.