The Orphaned Woods, After Days Of Rain

The stream is flowing right over the Gully Bridge.  My boots have a hole in them so my feet get wet, but the cool water feels good.  Over the bridge, mud sucks at my feet till I get to higher ground.

Moths flutter furiously like an early-winter snow flurry.  I can’t tell if I’m disturbing them or if they’re just constantly in motion.

My path to the little waterfall is blocked by the top branches and leaves of a maple tree that came down in the last windstorm.  It’s too hard to climb over, and I wonder if I will come back with a clipper and bow saw to clear it away or just make a new path.  So many trees are down, dead ones mostly.

I detour up the small hill and when I look up I’m faced with a dark archway of earth.

A Shagbark Hickory toppled over roots and all.  Where the tree once stood there is a depression in the earth with about six inches of crystal clear water in it.  I wade in the water to get a closer look at what used to be under the ground and is now visible.  Earth, rocks, roots, insects.  The mosquitos biting.

A small birch toppled over by the stream and I pulled it back up, hoping it will stay.   I wish I could do the same with the hickory.  I begin to wonder what it and the area around it will look like as the season’s change.

Mushrooms are everywhere.  I take a few pictures of the most interesting then spot the Indian Pipe.

Ghost pipe (also known as Indian pipe) isn’t a mushroom.  It’s a flower that gets its nutrients from the fungus in the ground instead of through photosynthesis. That’s why it’s white not green.

Fate led me out of the wood on a different path than usual.   The ground cover was low and I didn’t have to duck under the arch of the Japanese Honeysuckle.  This new way also took me past the Witch hazel tree which I’ve been watching with each season.  I now has the seed pods which will burst into little yellow flowers in the fall.