I’m heading up to Agnes’ Pasture, the 12.5-acre addition to Hubbard that spans the forested ridge overlooking the hayfield. I haven’t hiked its loop trail for a while. If truth be told, I haven’t hiked anywhere for a while, and as I climb the hill my lack of wind reminds me. Out of breath, I take a right at the fork. Soon I pass into a thick forest of twenty-foot white pines and tall grass, a shady enclosed echo of the former open pasture here. There is an enchanted sense of softness and peace, one worth experiencing. Spiritual. It crosses my mind that if I was to die right now, this would be a good spot. I’d be ok with it.

But the path continues (as do I) and passes two large pines, obviously parents of the grove of juniors. Field to forest succession moves along here at a gentle pace. I try but can’t quite make out any sounds and stories from the past; they feel very close, but Agnes is mum. A large and lovely batch of Pearly Everlasting draws me off the trail for a photo.

“I must have flowers, always, and always”, said Monet. Agnes Fuller donated this addition to the 31-acre Hubbard Sanctuary in 2011. It borders the Natchaug State Forest and the Trust’s Tower Hill Preserve as well as Hubbard and Chaplin’s Garrison Park.

I hike downhill, waving goodbye to a lone mosquito, and rejoin the trail that passes alongside the field and Darling Pond. The 15-acre meadow should be hayed soon. That happens only late in summer, which allows the rare Bobolinks and Savannah Sparrows that nest here to fledge their young of the year. In bright sun, the grasses and flowers are all close to the same height and hue and blur into impressionism. If this was Giverny, peasants would be piling them into haystacks, and an old Frenchman with a beard would be off to the side with his easel.

It’s a dry summer, despite a few rainstorms. I’ve been keeping one eye on the ground, but I will finish this walk without seeing as single hatchling toad, frog, or snake. The bench at Darling Pond is in the shade, a lucky bonus because I’m more than ready to sit down. I’ve been ambling along trying to be open to a blog brainstorm, a non-technique that usually works as good as a real idea. And here it is.

“The richness I achieve comes from nature, the source of my inspiration. I would like to paint the way a bird sings.” That’s Monet again, not me, talking about his water lily paintings. He’s come along on my walk, and I haven’t seen him until now. Like the painter, I’m a sucker for ponds and marshes. It’s good to be here, alive and able to see this serene and ever-changing artwork.

George Jacobi