The blossoming of the forest is happening, as each plant takes its turn coming to fruition. As the canopy thickens with bright green leaf and needle. As bears wander unobtrusively, alone or with their small young, marking boulders and rotten trees with their territory.
As forest creatures and birds call to one
another, providing messages, warnings, updates, invitations.
The stream in springtime is clear and full, the trampled places where wild ones slept last night visible. Where they relieved themselves when they woke leaving a scent for the young Shepherd to consider.
The stream in springtime is clear and full, the trampled places where wild ones slept last night visible. Where they relieved themselves when they woke leaving a scent for the young Shepherd to consider.
In the early morning light, we leave the dark
rich forest, and quietly walk up the steep road that skirts the small range.
The sky is overcast, bits of welcome rain pattering down through the layers of
branches.
We come to our driveway, turn in, and the
cacophony
of chipmunk communiqués turns riot, as the young pup presses his nose down one chipmunk hole after another, breathing deeply, altering his sense of his own life with the presence of these unseen others.
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