MASHPEE – Time, seemingly frozen. A red leaf has fallen from one tree and is suspended on the branch of another tree.
The senses are awakened when walking alone on a dirt path along the side of the Mashpee River. There is something soul nurturing about a long walk alone in the woods. The leaves crinkle underfoot. The dry pine needles lightly crunch. At this time of year, you can smell everything.
The senses are awakened, but not the wildlife. On this chilly late October day, there is barely a bird to be seen. At the beginning of the walk, there were ducks. And then nothing. No movement. Not even a squirrel.
When you walk alone on such a quiet day, you are the tree that falls in a forest. And you make a noise. But nothing else does.
Ot of all the senses, vision is most fed by a walk through nature.
The surprise of the Mashpee River is how geographically different it feels than the coastal postcards of nature that are ubiquitous on this peninsula.
This river, looking like it was sent in from somewhere in West Virginia or New Hampshire, feels like it belongs hundreds of miles away from those more famous beaches, rather than part of the same ecosystem.
The light dances quietly on the start of sunburst foliage. Just wait a few more days, it seems to whisper. The show is just getting started.
— Brian Tarcy
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