Walking the Wild . . . a portion of the Holmes County Trail text by David Kline photos  by J. Augspurger of Lifescapes Gallery

                     I am standing on the Bridge of Dreams and staring down into the clear waters of the Mohican River. A river has character; a life, a voice of its own, and humans have been drawn to its side since the beginning of time. We are to be like trees planted by the rivers of waters, wrote the Psalmist. Like sycamores.
                     Today, here in the mid-part of May, the river's voice is as soft as a sigh. A great blue heron flies downriver, its long legs ready for landfall, feet skating the surface. The  large gangly bird backpedals a few strokes, and drops into foot deep water near the river's edge. The heron takes several steps and then remains as motionless as a statue as it awaits a meal to swim within range of its dagger-like bill. From the top of one of the great sycamore trees come the song of the yellow-throated warbler. In years past this pretty bird was called the sycamore warbler. A name I would still prefer. A phoebe cries its name. A kingfisher rattles.
          With seven miles to go, I have to get serious. I like to walk lightly. Carrying only a book of maps, two sandwiches , a smashed cupcake, not enough water, a copy of Walden & Other Writings of Henry David Thoreau, and a notebook and pens, I set foot northeast for Glenmont following the Holmes County Rails to Trails. With the temperature in the low sixties, wind out of the north, a cerulean sky, it is a perfect day for walking. [continue...]