Springbrook is one of the best places for me to go and let go of anything bothering me. Slow walks or fast jaunts, it is so peaceful here and my heart and mind can rest for a short time. Autumn and Spring are the most beautiful here. (I could hear the turtle singing, “I believe I can fly…”)
Fall is my favorite season for a couple reasons. First, THE COLORS! They are glorious! I also love how it’s cool (alright, in MN it can get COLD!) at night but warm during the day. The reeds look like they’re in ice, don’t they? This day was a PERFECT fall day! I went down a path I don’t often take, and saw some pretty colors. If you would like to see more of my fall photos from Springbrook, follow me on Instagram!
Smiling answered Hiawatha:
“In the land of the Dacotahs
Lives the Arrow-maker’s daughter,
Minnehaha, Laughing Water,
Handsomest of all women.
I will bring her to your wigwam,
She shall run upon your errands,
Be your starlight, moonlight, firelight,
Be the sunlight of my people!”
Over wide and rushing rivers
In his arms he bore the maiden;
Light he thought her as a feather,
As the plume upon his head-gear;
Cleared the tangled pathway for her,
Bent aside the swaying branches,
All the travelling winds went with them,
O-er the meadows, through the forest;
All the stars of night looked at them,
Watched with sleepless eyes their slumber…
Oma bought me this book several years ago and I just LOVE the word pictures. It has become a favorite book that I re-read a few times every year, and Oma’s garden sometimes makes me remember the book even more.
Such flowers they were! – larger and fuller than any on earth, as if they themselves were the reality and those I had formerly loved were but their shadows. Not a petal or leaf showed speck of brown or wilt. Every inch of every plant was radiantly alive, as if they would continue to grow larger and more abundant of life the more one drank in their beauty. Decay did not appear among the characteristics of this place.
This strange land possessed a vague familiarity, as of a homeland infinitely distant in forgotten childhood, now suddenly remembered as the place one was always meant to live.
Into the woods my Master went,
Clean forspent, forspent.
Into the woods my Master came,
Forspent with love and shame.
But the olives they were not blind to Him,
The little gray leaves were kind to Him:
The thorn-tree had a mind to Him
When into the woods He came.
Out of the woods my Master went,
And He was well content.
Out of the woods my Master came,
Content with death and shame.
When Death and Shame would woo Him last,
From under the trees they drew Him last:
‘Twas on a tree they slew Him — last
When out of the woods He came.
I know, I know…it’s waaaaaaay past Labor Day. School has started, leaves are changing colors…and I’m just now posting Labor Day pictures. Well, it’s been a busy few weeks, with a funeral, canning salsa (yum!), looking for work, meeting new babies, getting training and putting plans into action for becoming a Relay Center during collection week with Operation Christmas Child. All big time-spenders. Now, on to pictures….