No words came to me as I walked through our neighbor’s woods. I hadn’t been there all winter, but now that the ticks are back, I’m walking their paths again. Much has changed since I was there last.
But much is still the same.
I visited with some trees that I consider my old friends. But I also spotted this dying tree for the first time. I thought it elegant with the bluish-gray mushroom sprouting from it like umbrellas or skirts.
I must have had sewing on my mind because this tree loaded with a different kind of mushroom made me think of a lacy gown.
I’ve become quite close to these woods and coming back to them is like taking a long deep breath. I settle in, knowing the paths but not deciding which to follow until I get to a crossroads. The dogs run ahead but I pay little attention to them. Only when I stop to look more closely at a flower or tree or take a picture, does Fate circle back and push her face into mine.
I guess to let me know she is still there.
The birds were quiet and these woods have little water the deep I go into them, so there are no frogs either.
But quiet is fine with me. I feel quiet too. Walking slowly, seeing wide, allowing my body blend into the wonders around me.
