These are hallowed grounds.
More than a shadowy forest.
More than a well-trod path.
More than a brook to ford.
It was here that men marched to meet on the sunny fields.
And here that men fought and died under the September sun.
Many, many years ago.
And it was here that a patient father tried to convey these bits of history to his offspring.
To explain the movement of forces.
There was great eagerness to explore the monuments and mounds of cannonballs.
But little eyes are able to see what adults cannot.
And history mingled with science.
Exposing that which is often unseen.
or dismissed
or overlooked by those who walk too fast.
Slowing down gives one the chance
to take note of the subtleties of shadow and light
to imagine the possibilities of a field of high grass
to see God's creations in a whole other light.
And maybe, just maybe,
 |
| Rats...it's out of focus (probably due to working around my sweet little parasite...but Stephen found some old pottery. |
you might find a souvenir to take home.
