Quinnipiac

I go up to where I need my saw, but I haven't brought my saw, so I turn back.  The tide is up and the river has plenty of water, so I've made it up to and past most of the ruins - the remains of a 1950's housing development that was platted out in a flood plain, the houses just five or six feet above a normal summer level.  The project must have flooded almost every spring.

It is a day for me to reconnect.  Nature and being in the wild has become so ingrained in my spirit that a few days away makes me feel out of sorts.   There's not much to document, today.  It's just a good place to be, to think, and to not think.

Some might see it as a healing process, and I would agree with that if I frequented the wild less frequently, but in my case it is a leveling... a reset to where and who I am.  As abused as this little river has been, it has returned to the sacred, and seeking out the sacred is good for the soul.