
After sniffing herbs and wandering through blossoms, I headed to Princeton, my favorite town south of New England. There I bought an iced vanilla milk at a local coffee shop, as pregnant women should, and sipped it on a grassy lawn in the old shopping district. Inviting.
On my drive North, an old mill aside Stony Creek caught my eye. I took a narrow road that crossed a wooden bridge, the original of which had been destroyed by General Washington after the Battle of Princeton. I parked by the mill and walked into the watery woods. I call them watery woods, because the wide creek spreads thin over the forest floor creating a series of tree-studded islands that canopy the whole area. In the cool greenery, I could only hear the water spilling over the rocks, shimmering like envied jewelry, and the occasional squawk of a lone goose. Serene.