I walked on my neighbor’s path to avoid the ticks who were out in full force with the warm weather. The swamp is still frozen on this first day of spring. The ice, like thick islands floating in the spring melt.
Parts of the path were flooded with runoff and we had to climb over a few fallen trees from the last winds storm. But the moss in the swamp is bright green and soon the skunk cabbage will be popping up.
When I called Fate, who had disappeared in the woods, she came running back with a deer bone in her mouth. She dropped it when I asked her to. It must not have been too tasty.
I looked at all the beech trees still holding onto their leaves as if seeing them for the first time. And in a way I was. For years I thought they were aspens. Now that I know their true identity, the woods look a little different.
I’m not sure why they should, the trees are the same. I think it’s because I also understand their place in the forest. How they grow in the shade of the white pines, who were some of the first trees to grow back when the cleared fields were abandoned by farmers.
It’s like finding out something new thing about a friend I’ve known for years. Suddenly I’m able to see beyond my experience with the person, getting a glimpse into their past that helps me to understand them a little better.