in Scrapbook

Here where the mountains meet the river…

“There are some strange summer mornings in the country, when he who is but a sojourner from the city shall early walk forth into the fields, and be wonder-smitten with the trance-like aspect of the green and golden world. Not a flower stirs; the trees forget to wave; the grass itself sems to have ceased to grow; and all Nature, as is suddenly become conscious of her own profound mystery, and feeling no refuge from it but , sinks into this wonderful and indescribable repose.” Herman Melville, from Pierre, Or The Ambiguities