Farther down stream, I surveyed my handiwork with the weed whacker late last week. I didn't eradicate the Japanese stilt grass, but I certainly slowed it down. Let's see if this comes back.
As I passed along the ridge of the Cary Pines Trail, a perfectly illuminated spider web caught my eye. The spider had been plucking it like an instrument but ran up to its lair.
At the Fern Glen, a painted turtle was basking in the last rays of the day.
Gifford House was basking at the edge of the Little Bluestem Meadow as I emerged from the Old Gravel Pit.
And I enjoyed the warm, piney air wafting by as I passed in and out of sun and shade along the Scotch Pine Alleé on my way to my ride home.
