A Trip To Walden Garden Analysis

I went to the Lynden Gardens deliberately, to seek solace with a friend who never speaks, but tells his story to everyone who will stop and listen {1}. I went to the Lynden Gardens because here is a spot where the Spirit of Nature and the Genius of human creativity co-exist [1]. Mr. Thoreau, I think you would feel at home here; there are enough twists and turns to avoid falling into “a particular routine” (Walden 18.4). Solitude and sanctuary abide here; nevertheless, not beyond my sense of hearing comes the sound of the “desperate enterprise” (18.10). In your day, you expressed concern about the pace of life, but can you imagine the ability of travelling 50, 60, 70 miles per hour, just to arrive on time for work or for play? Cars, Henry

A brisk northwesterly wind rattles the tree-tops as the branches sway and the leaves give way : some in glorious Monet color-splashes {3}, others in shriveled up shades of clay. ( What's a Monet you ask? He was a contemporary of yours, but you did not live long enough to see him blossom. I wish you could have seen his work, I know that you who went deliberately to Walden Pond would have enjoyed his Water Lily Pond painting at the turn of the century.) Every year, during this season of leave dropping and letting go, I wonder about my own journey back to the earth. Will my leave-taking be an experience of just shriveling up with regret or will I go out with a color-splash of glorious

The winged one glanced in multiple directions and flit away like a poem in flight {4}. Perhaps she senses the need for haste in preparation for the coming winter. So, too, the ephemeral Monarch butterfly passing by me at this moment: what little time you have oh kings and queens of the earth. What little time we all have...Mr.. Thoreau, do you remember how you spoke of Time as “a stream [you] go fishing in,” and how you lamented the fact that you could not “drink deeper; fish in the sky, whose bottom is pebbly with stars” (2.23)? Ever since my father died (two years ago this coming November), I’ve been casting my pole into the teeming life of the universe, wondering if I might catch a sign of assurance that he swims still in the vast universal