At any time, I can close my eyes and be transported back, and I am brimfull. Full of wonder, serenity, peace, and love. The forest is a magical place for me. On a trail, I can hardly take it all in, but I do try.
I search the ground at my feet, looking for signs that lead to knowledge. I see tiny fungi, lush mosses - really all miniature worlds. Sometimes my imagination runs wild and I envision small beings living there and find myself wanting to live in their world for a brief time, just to see what it might be like.
I see signs to help better understand this place. For the type of flower petals, tree leaves, needles, branches, and cones that litter the trail tell much about the giants that loom overhead. I know a small squirrel has been above in one place for I see the scales of the Douglas fir scattered about that he (she?) dropped as he tore the cones apart to reach the seeds. In this case, the cones were still green, and I know they were the female cones for they are the ones with seeds.
I note the nearly invisible strands of a spider web stretching between the branches of a red huckleberry whose berries have ripened and are mostly gone now, likely eaten by a robin or towhee. The web leads me to look for others and I begin to see them everywhere, even high above the ground. Some appear tattered and empty. Others contain their tiny weavers, unobtrusive and lurking at the edge of the web, waiting for the hapless bug that becomes caught and struggles against the strands, creating vibrations that alert the spider.
I notice and bask
in the quiet. I only hear an occasional bird call and try to identify which bird
made it. “Shick-a-dee-dee-dee” gives away the Chickadees, while the “Me-meep”
of the nuthatches remind me of a Volkswagen horn. Robins are numerous and have
distinctive calls and songs. Woodpeckers are often, though not always, loud
with their rattling calls and punctuated hammering against a hollow tree trunk.
Gazing
through the woods, the trees stand like silent sentinels and below them, covering
the forest floor, tall sword ferns reach skyward with gracefully arching
fronds. I often wish the trees could talk, for what tales they could tell of all
they have seen and heard through the years.
Logs covered
with thick green moss attract my attention. I love to search them to see just
how many kinds of mosses grow there, to discover small, oddly shaped fungi and
the occasional centipede or other creepy- crawly.
What a wonder
it all is, and my thoughts often lead to the Creator of this wondrous place. I
feel a strong presence here, unlike anywhere else and it speaks to me. I breathe
deeply of the rich, moist air and am free.
But
ask the animals, and they will teach you;
the birds of the air, and they
will tell you;
ask
the plants of the earth, and they will teach you;
and the fish of the sea will
declare to you.
Who
among all these does not know
that the hand of the LORD has
done this?
In
his hand is the life of every living thing
and the breath of every human
being.
Job 12: 7-10
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