Nickerson State Park

Oh, my... Nickerson State Park is as wonderful as I recall. The scent of pine was so strong... like burying your nose into one of those pine cats they make in Maine. As we ventured into the park, I no sooner said: "I have to find a lady slipper" than one popped up out of nowhere. Just one, beautiful, solitary flower. As we journeyed farther, I ran into all of my favorite boulders...ones that had served as a hiding place for me to peek at nature, one that had been a favored shape, one that had been a place for me to escape to and read a book atop of... each one had a special memory for me. Each step along the way seemed to bring a new favorite into view. Lichens, grasses, birds, Indian pipes, mushrooms growing on a bed of moss, the cedar swamp where I oft sat and waited for ducks and birds to come by and visit, all the way to the Crosby graveyard, where I used to sit and visit with the Crosby's from time to time. They passed through this mortal coil in the 1860's...but I visited them and chatted with them anyway. The delights of my forest are all still there. My soul ran with wild abandon though the woods. I was home again. I had fond memories of walking in the woods with my father... long walks, talking about whatever came across our minds. Usually about jobs and the news of the day, but always walks and talks I enjoyed and hold dear in my heart! Enjoy the walk with us...