A few days ago, I took a different turn on my woods walk and found myself at the foot of this charming little bridge, made by my neighbor to cross a rivulet, dry in summer but swollen during spring and fall rains. It took me back to childhood, its varied colors and widths reminding me of a toy xylophone. I love the irregular movement of its planks, tilting this way and that, inviting a dancing step.
The planks are nailed to two large tree trunks laid across the streambed.
The water below sparkles with sunlight and with fallen leaves, the bridge marked with the secret language of pine needles.
And across the stream, ranged in an august grouping, weathered tree stumps; it is as if they are sentient, and they await us for a serious conversation. It is a magical little spot, a setting for a fairy tale in which everyone is happy at the end.
*Dear readers, I'll be away for a few days to attend the wedding of one of my wonderful nephews and his delightful fiance; also to see friends and art. I'll see you later next week.
what a magical place you live in!
ReplyDeletearen't I lucky! When I called my neighbors to tell them about this blog post, they told me that they called this the "three billy goats gruff" bridge. So my fairy tale feeling is shared by the makers of this delightful structure.
ReplyDeletesuperbes photos..dequoiinspirer des aquarellistes (ou autres..)
ReplyDeletemerci beaucoup, Aquarellalain, I'm pleased you like the photos.
ReplyDelete