Shrouded Meadow
The meadow I have wandered in for more than a decade has been slated for housing development. This summer great rents were made in the adjoining woods, trees cut down and mulched into nothingness. Sudden avenues of wood chips, mulch, and fallen branches parted the dense woods, a foreshadowing of asphalt and concrete. This morning I walked through the meadow shrouded in mist. Here is the place where the stink horn mushroom appeared, here the place where I chanced upon the endangered Blandings turtle, here is where the daisies bloom, and there sheltered near the trees is where you'll find parasol mushrooms in their season. Here is where my children and I laid in the meadow at night to gaze on shooting stars, and a little yonder where the deer stomped and snorted at our midnight incursion. Walking home again with shoes watered by the tall grasses I lament anew.
