Near where McCormick’s Creek merges into the White River, the area becomes quite swampy and is often flooded. There are two views from a boardwalk trail through this swamp that have caught my attention. The first is a quadruplet of sycamore trees in the foreground.
Clearly the weeds are about to conquer the world, you might think. Of course, the sycamores know better.
The other spot is a hundred yards further down the board walk, where the view opens up into a stage like space where we wait in vain for a performance to begin.
But it is us who are lacking the patience: The performance is happening, all the time, mostly without us.
The Inner Frame 