The sun had just risen over the hills under which the farmhouse is nestled.
The lake beyond was a rich blue reflecting the glorious skies as I realized that along the edge of the driveway stands a series of ancient trees. Sentries.
Their girth is huge, at least the ones on the oldest which are the maples. There are a couple of locusts which are much younger and an ash which appears to be as old as the maples. It arches protectively over the back of the farmhouse.
As the dogs roamed around the back and front yard, I ran to get my camera. The colours in the trunks of these giants and the shadows from trees on the other side of the driveway/lane, glowed in the early morning sun rays. You can easily see that fall is nearly over. Leaves blanket the grass, begging me to get out the rake.
But it was the stillness that grabbed me. Even the morning traffic (which consists of perhaps a dozen cars and trucks spaced over an hour or so) was suspended. I stopped and drank it in.
These two trees - different species - show their age - particularly the huge split trunk of the large maple in the centre of the photo. I ponder its age. Has it stood here since long before pioneer days and guarded the entrance to this old farm property in its early years? Was it selected by the original farmer to stay while others, not so healthy or larger, were taken for building furniture for the home or make beams or siding for the huge barn, now tumbling into disrepair? I love history, and this tree prompts all kinds of speculation and stories in my head. Perhaps it will figure in a story I write some day.
In front of the house sits a stump, presumably from a black or honey locust, cut recently if I look carefully at the top. A small urn sits on it from a previous tenant or a romantic wanting to use its flat surface as a plant holder. Young locust trees sprout from roots around the base. Beyond, is the old farm gate leading to a pasture, rich in grasses, now growing in with locust and cedar. An old pole fence edges the bank leading down to what may at one time have been a dirt track connecting other farms and the small villages beginning along the edge of Rice Lake. All lovely speculation about the history of this place.
The sun rises higher exposing more trees and bushes lining the bank and the lake's edge, the blue of the lake itself and in the distance the other side of the lake which can be seen - barely - through the trees.
The lake and its opposite side won't be visible come summer and I will be surrounded by a green wall, shading the house and protecting the property from vacationers, anglers and fun-seekers. Meantime I'm enjoying this early morning wander around the front of this very pretty piece of land.
Hope you have something similar to enjoy this day.