Just off the highway that leads home I run the gauntlet between these beauties every day in my car.  They swish back and forth and make a satisfying thwack-thwack-thwack in protest as I drive through them, often leaving delicate yellow petals on my car windshield and hood.

If I pause on the tiny wooden bridge leading onto the property and look to the south this is what I see.

Where the drive makes a hairpin turn it crosses another rapid stream

and continues.  And just when I begin to wonder whether I will at last arrive,

there it is.  Home again.