This is a snow covered brook – but it is not any old brook. It is the brook that runs along the border of the farm on one side. It is lying there now quietly, preparing itself for the spring rush of water which is still some time off.
In spring it is all mossy and green – the ferns glistening in the damp spray of rain and humid air.
Down in the grooves of stone and moss is a fascinating world of colors and smells, the strong smell of disintegrating wood and earth will swirl around your nose. I like this smell, it is the smell of the earth and helps me to keep in touch with it.
In autumn the the brook runs cheekily down its course, singing its merry song to all who take the time to listen and wonder. Sitting on a stone by its course it is easy to let the world stand still and to be present in the here and now. All worries are washed away and I am just where I am supposed to be.