Hammonassett State Park

    Last Sunday I decided to take a bike ride to the beach. Now it's a snap to get to the small beach in town - just a small hill over the railroad tracks, a right on Main Street, then the first left... and there you are. 
   But I wanted to ride to the state park over in the next town which boasts one of the most beautiful beaches in the state. I would have to ride through our little town, over the marshes, across a few rivers, pedal into the next town and there I'd be. It seemed like a lovely Sunday outing. The maps told me it was a mere three miles...easy peasy...and so I was off.

     I got to town hall unscathed and crossed over the first bridge ...

 Indian River in Clinton

I passed two yoga studios, three churches, umpteen 18th century homes, some lovely wildflower gardens, a couple of antique shops....then over another bridge,

Harbor on Hammonassett River

then into the next town of Madison and beyond their little ice house,

pedaling through the marsh,

then into the park...

where rose hips on the beach rugosa line the paths,

Brilliance of sumac

and both the roses and golden rods kiss the Sound,

and rocks line some of the coast,

and on others sugary white sand,

and all of this beauty enjoyed from a bike, on a Sunday, in quiet, non-descript little coastal towns.

Happy Trails!

The Woods

   A mile down the road from us, bordered in part by a small river, is a magical place of glacial rock covered in moss and ferns,

ponds full of quacking frogs,

trails and rivulets which pass through rock,

small caves,

stone walls,

forests of mountain laurel,

tipis,

and miles of quiet unpopulated trails.

  I take the walk to at least the edge of these woods everyday because there is something for me in those great rocks, and though I don't fully understand it, never do they fail to surprise me by their grandness.
  So far I have seen these woods through two strong seasons, and now, slowly, spring is making its tread felt. The moss is growing taller and greener and further covering the rocks and fallen trees

as the ice and snow did last month.
   Masses of frog eggs cling in slippery clumps near the surface of the still water and the woods ring with the cacophony of their parents.
   It is a wonderful place to walk if you miss the dog you used to live beside and walked with everyday (that's you Pumpkin, in case you were wondering) because here there is company everywhere - pileated woodpeckers hammering away, the wind rustling through empty branches and the musical chatter of the moving water. And now finally the rocks are warming beneath the sun so everywhere is the perfect picnic spot. Bring a basket and let's go.

   Happy Birthday Pat! I look forward to a summer walk together.