Shorn meadow, Miner

It was yet another gorgeous, almost-summer day, and after my "graduation" ceremony—I had finished yet-another course of physical therapy—I rewarded myself with a walk to my old haunt, the Miner preserve in Stonington. I certainly needed a visit to refamiliarize myself with the refuge in advance of the annual Hay Ride next Saturday that I'll be leading, and when I pulled in the long driveway, I had to admit to a degree of shock. Every couple of years, the large meadow areas are hayed to keep them from becoming forest, and the haymakers had certainly done a terrific job. But the shorn field more resembled a golf course than a haven for wildlife, and while I knew this haircut had to be done periodically—like hair, the meadow would grow back—I couldn't help but worry over what "wildlife" I'd be able to note from the vantage point of the hay wagon. Maybe we'd get lucky and last year's coyote would put in a return performance.

Hay rake, Miner