Over the weekend, I went to Western Mass. for a quick visit with friends.
On the way down, I took a detour to Walden Pond.
The pond is lovely--it looks more like a Western pond than an Eastern one, tiny with a sandy (not rocky or mucky) bottom and clear blue water. There's a narrow band of sand beach all the way around it and only one building on its shores (the bath house).
Steep hillsides surround the pond, growing with tall, straight white pines. The whole place has a feeling of "glaciers were here."
To escape the joggers and walkers and swimmers (yes, swimmers already, shrieking at the cold water), I took the trail that went over Emerson's Cliff.
Removed from the crowds and the very busy road that goes right by the pond, it was amazingly peaceful.
Back at the parking lot, I checked out the replica of Thoreau's hut. It looks like the perfect, cozy little writing studio.
It was a good reminder of the power of words, this beautiful land preserved, in the midst of highways and traffic and strip malls, because one man loved it and wrote about it.