We pulled our boats up on a mud flat carpeted with golden flowers.
Most were Pale St. Johnswort and Golden Pert.
Some were Swamp Candles.
The Pale St. Johnswort bore seed pods of ruby red.
Elderberry shrubs bore clusters of pale green berries on burgundy pedicels.
Pipewort was holding its little white puffs on thin leafless stalks.
A big fat Bullfrog sat very still for its portrait.
When I'm here on this beautiful river, I am perfectly content.
3 comments:
And you make us content, with your mastery of photography. Breathtaking photos... Thank you.
"One ought, ever day at least, to hear
a little song, read a good poem, see a
fine picture, and, if it were possible,
to speak a few reasonable words."
~~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
You know what I love about these scenes? It is that the major features . . . the hills, the general atmosphere . . . of the place is just the same as it's been for hundreds of years. Sure, the water takes more or less space from year to year, but The Place itself . . . endures.
Excellent artistry-make me want to go there with my Hornbeck soon!
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