We knew when we couldn’t find the trail we were looking for yesterday that we’d return today. What we didn’t know was how brisk it would be, but thankfully we were prepared. We both packed extra layers and I was thankful for a winter hat and gloves. Mid-May in Maine.

We also didn’t expect to park across from a horse farm.

But wind gusts reaching 30 mph had toppled a tree, preventing us from driving to the trailhead. I questioned our intelligence as we approached the tree and downed wires. My guy was certain we’d be fine. I let him go first. No fireworks. So I followed and looked back to take a photo. Generators hummed in several yards. Apparently, this is normal procedure.

Two weeks ago, we’d climbed Albany Mountain from Crocker Pond Road. Yesterday, we tried to climb from Birch Avenue in Stoneham, but found ourselves wandering and wondering along a snowmobile trail–we caught glimpses of the mountain, but it alluded us. So today, determination set in. We were going to conquer the mountain again.

Back across the brook we trudged. Actually, this was one of about five brook crossings. There’s something to be said for the snowmobile trail–usually there were bridges. Not to be this time around.

We had company at the beginning of our journey. A veery kept pace with us and peered about as it foraged for food.

Within about ten minutes of finally getting onto the actual trail, we found lunch rock–as if on cue, for it was noon.

PB&J always tastes better in beautiful surroundings.

The soil was rich and moist–we can attest to that as we slogged through mud following moose tracks much of the way. Trilliums thrive in such conditions and painted trilliums showed their bright faces. Three leaves, three leaf-like bracts and three petals–one triangle layered upon the next in elegant symmetry.

Meanwhile, the regal bloom of a red trillium shared the continuation of the series of three–trilliums have a pistil with three parts surrounded by six stamens. My guy asked if I have a trillion pictures of trilliums. Maybe–but certainly not enough.

We paused to admire  a large burl.

And passed through an old beaver bog into a hemlock grove.

Though it was much too cold for butterflies, I found one in the form of a plant. Actually, it rather reminded me of a luna moth.

As we began to climb, we were in the land of the striped maple and hobblebush. I promised myself I wouldn’t photograph the hobblebush flowers. But this striped maple–ahhhhh.

My guy is fast, even after going for a run this morning. I, however, was happy to discover that I wasn’t the only one moving at a snail’s pace.

Continuing up, cherry and

shadbush displayed their dainty faces.

Up and down through the notch we continued until at last we approached the summit.

Yesterday, we marched to the beat of a different drummer. Today, we took in the scene toward Kearsarge and the Baldface Mountains. Rock, lichens, mosses, shrubs, trees, mountains, valleys, lakes, clouds–all verged on the horizon. We knew we were blessed.

Thanks for wondering my way on another day and a Mondate to boot.