Native doll at 3 km mark on today's walk.
By 10:20 am this morning, all our layers were off. We were walking in shorts and short sleeves.
Je suis une corneille
qui ramasse
des choses argentés
le long du chemin.
Je suis une corneille
qui se régale
de photos
d'oiseau mort.
M. F. W. Lamothe
We walked with, on our immediate left, the railway.
We walked in the middle mode of transportation,
the road,
We walked with, on our immediate right, Big River,
as the English called Connecticut River in 1704.
A sign from Charlesville, New Hampshire, that seemed appropriate as I had asked Dean to take my photo dancing down the street. (Je synchronisais ma danse avec celles des femmes de Nia chez Welkin Life Institute.) Also evoked the song: Quand il est mort le poète.
Not long before our walk was done, there was a book lying open on the side of the road, down from Union High School in Rockingham, Vt. Here is the found text, which seemed appropriate somehow for the story of my ancestress, Abigail Nims.
Do you know it?
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