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| Planajeur looking at the Dents de Morcles |
Cause I’m singing.
It’s not just the twitter of the birds (not
too many crows yet so the little ones can shine), nor the buzzing of the bees; not
the wind in the trees nor the crackling of leaves (too damp after the last
downpour). It’s the melody of joy percolating
through my soul (much like my beloved coffee earlier).
A sunny day neither too warm – it is May
after all and I’m in the alps – nor too cold: no gloves, no bonnet, no heavy
jacket.
The joy leaps ahead of me and trails behind
me. I’d sing out loud, but it’s actually enough to be humming.
Not only are there sounds in the woods of
great harmony, but all the little flowers are blooming from the wild
strawberries (a promise of delicious bites to come), to the nubs that will
become blueberries: even though I only found three-leaved clover, I don’t need
the luck – I carry it with me.
Life at its best, just me and the mountain
paths and forests.
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| more pretty yellow |
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| still a bit of branch laying on the path |
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| very small yellow flowers |
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| very small blue flowers |
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| flowers on the wild strawberries |
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| clover |
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| not-quite-blueberries |
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