I don’t know how to write a blog tonight about the woods and what I felt today, in the summer of the wetlands and the annual bloom of the blue flag, the finest iris, alone in the swampy grass at the edge of the trail in the water of the Charles River. The news in the woods I walk is so good, so hopeful, so satisfying. The news in the world, the news on the television, tonight is so bad. In the meadow, there is a new colony of milkweed thriving. I saw it with my morning eyes. And under the trees in close quarters of the ferns and swamp cabbage by the trickling brooks, I thanked the delicate wild geranium for its beauty in my life this day. All the ferns want is soil, water, sun and to unfurl into the wetlands their greenly fronds, and wave a little in a mild wind.I can tell you: it’s a banner year for lady slippers in the shade of all the trails, they bloom ecstatic. Tonight there were clouds swishing swiftly over the almost half moon shining over all this beauty and terrible trouble.