|An old stone wall marks the boundaries of the overgrown pasture.|
|Saplings and brambles fill the field.|
|Young sugar maple|
I, the shepherd, stand looking out over the woodsman's overgrown field. I marvel at why anyone would want to cover up the splendor and majesty of layers upon layers of mountains. I dream of a small herd of goats clearing that land so my sheep can graze there. I remember the field full of wild flowers all summer and the scent of warm raspberries. I remember middle daughter with camera in hand, taking hundreds of pictures of that pasture and dreaming of building herself a little house, right there in the middle of the brambles.
|The woodsman's firewood|
|Chloe watches as we make our way out of the woods.|