I thought the sparrow’s note from heaven,
Singing at dawn on the alder bough;
I brought him home, in his nest, at even;
He sings the song, but it cheers not now,
For I did not bring home the river and sky;–
He sang to my ear, — they sang to my eye.
The delicate shells lay on the shore;
The bubbles of the latest wave
Fresh pearls to their enamel gave,
And the bellowing of the savage sea
Greeted their safe escape to me.
I wiped away the weeds and foam,
I fetched my sea-born treasures home;
But the poor, unsightly, noisome things
Had left their beauty on the shore
With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar.
From “Each and All”
As you can see in the photo above of my drawing table, I (and all the kids I walk in the woods with) collect things to study and draw later. Yes, it gives me more time, access to field guides, etc, but the spark of amazement seems to die a slow death the longer I am away from the woods. I have to be in their environment, with them. Three more weeks until I can get back to my woods. Then trilliums, orchids, hepatica and bloodroot will all be up. I will go to the woods, so that I may live.