Out For A Stroll

“Let’s go for a walk on the beach this afternoon…”


(10AM…looking at the sky…)

“High clouds are moving in. Maybe let’s go now?”

(On the way there…)

“Look how strong the wind from the south is. The ocean water is still cold, and the beach will be really chilly and uncomfortable. Let’s walk in the woods instead….”

(They turn left instead of right at the end of Music Street.)

“How about Old Courthouse Road?”


(Arrive at trailhead, park, and we’re off…)

We pass four named but untenanted chickenhouses.

And head on down the trail to Old Courthouse Road.

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We crossed the bridge when we came to it.

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The bridge crosses the Mill Brook. The brook is wide and multi-channeled here. In a side channel was a grassclump tussock-island, its leaftips sharply lit by the April sun.

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These lower reaches of the Mill Brook are flat. They were once cranberry bogs, but have reverted to field. Looking up and to the west, we got a good look at the approaching high clouds. The weather report is for rain and strong winds tomorrow.

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On our approach, five small heads rose up from the grasses. Turkeys heard us, saw us, and decided they’d go elsewhere. The wind was from the south, we were to the north, so Coquina never smelled them. She didn’t see them, either, which was fine with us.

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We passed through the gate where the path met Old Courthouse Road, contentedly ambling in the sun. I dawdled with the camera, as usual. While admiring some lichen, I saw a wee tuft of grass, so green in a first flush of growth. I got down on my hands and knees, losing myself in this miniature manifestation of the season.

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When I looked up, my companions were distant.

Christine keeps cruising when I get distracted.

Coquina will shuttle back and forth between us.

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She sure is a happy-looking dog.

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We move into the woods.

A first-of-the-spring mourning cloak butterfly basks on the leaves ahead of us.

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An old stone wall edges the road.

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Incorporated into the wall is a large and rounded quartz rock.

You don’t often see them this big.

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Across the valley a swamp maple is in full bloom.

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We pass L***********’s pond.

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Waterside alders bloom russet against the water.

We continue into the woods a little longer, then reverse, to return home.

Lunchtime calls — for man, woman, and dog.

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