We return for a last time this year to New Harmony. This time we visit the nearby state park, my original motivation to travel to the southwest corner of Indiana.
The park is rough and unkempt, without must-see spots. Instead, you get largely untouched woodland where you have to find the subtle beauty yourself.
May Apples play with blurred highlights as if they have been waiting for me, and somebody has left a message in the dried river bed. Unlikely, but we can dream.
On this Friday morning a good month ago, I am the only visitor. Below once again the Wabash river, shortly before he finds oblivion in the Ohio.
The landscape doesn’t quite feel like an Indiana landscape anymore. This is already the South. The wonderfully braided bark of the Pecan tree cannot be seen much further north.
There is somebody else, after all. Patient Cassiopeia, waiting for the years to pass.
The Inner Frame 