Solitude is easy to come by…

You get what you need in the swamps of Maryland along the Eastern Shore. Solitude is easy to come by, early in the morning, and when storms threaten. Bad weather tends to keep all but the hard core searchers at home. Of course, the hard core know that bad weather is more interesting.  

Bald Eagles perch, scanning the water. Snapping turtles inch over the blacktop. Perhaps they know that hard rain means no cars. The sound of the place is deafening, all manner of creatures sounding. Folks  here want to be left alone.  There is no other reason to live here, aside from the elegiac beauty, and the chance to see eagles fly everyday.  I tend to walk a little more carefully, and to pay closer attention when I am down in the bottom. I am the obvious outsider, and strangers draw attention. The locals don’t really care much to hear about my interest in the desolation represented by the wreckage of old barns and crumbling farm houses.  They aren’t looking for metaphor, after all.  They live here, out on the swamps, and when the rain comes and the water rises they know better then to be out wandering around. 

Sam

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