A Path Through Time
About This Author
Carolyn Rushton (8th November 1939-), born and raised in Pendleton, Indiana, now lives in Glenwood, Indiana. She is a proud mother, grandmother and great-grandmother who lived mainly on farms and has a tremendous love for nature due to her involvement in the Girl’s Scouts. Part of a National Gourd Society, Rushton has won prizes related to the drying of gourds and is very proud of that. She is a professional wallpaper hanger and painter. Her love for the arts include experiences in playing the piano and organ, writing, painting, photography and design. Relevant to our magazine, Rushton includes an array of prolific themes in her writing.
Come with me old friend and walk the path - no need to talk.
Breathe in the air, take in the view, a fleeting time I'll share with you.
The woods in Spring, exciting! Joy! of tiny flowers, and leaves, so coy
they seem afraid to let us see how big they very soon will be.
Violets, Salt & Peppers grow, Blue-eyed Marys, & Buttercups glow.
Dutchman's Britches hanging down,
Trilliums, and pink & white "Beauties" abound.
Then slowly Summer time arrives, the woods just becomes more alive
with great trees bearing leaves so wide, and grasses where small creatures hide.
A squirrel in that tall oak tree, tests limbs where soon its' nest will be.
The Cardinals and the Blue-birds wild, flash colorful flights that make us smile.
The Blue Jay calls a warning loud, a Hawk soars out below the clouds.
But time will change these lazy days, the march to Autumn soon gives way
to leaves of yellow, tan and red, the path becomes a rustling bed
of crunchy leaves to kick about, and look ! the wind blows them far out, away!
just watch them fall, they float and sail, what fun for all.
If you'll stand still and listen well, we're not alone, you soon can tell,
the tiniest creatures make leaf sounds, while running low along the ground.
The most loved part of the year for me, through INDIAN SUMMER, time does flee.
The warm and breezy weather slows, into a time of early snows.
A winter walk? Good for the soul. To be outside just makes us whole.
The path is powdered now with white, brown leaves now brittle, edged with ice.
the stream still flows but time may cease, oh blessed quiet, stillness, peace.
The only sounds are squeaky snow and drips and drops from branches low.
Then tiny ripples sooth our ears, and tracks along the stream appear.
A field mouse with a trailing tail, a bird-wing print, a track of quail.
The deer have come for icy sips of cold refreshment - several trips.
Already?... the thought of Spring is in the air, but in the woods, my friend, is where
serenity is at its' best, time matters not, all seasons rest.