Today is all rain and
darkness and quiet; all the things that soothe my noisy brain, and enable slow
steps, inside and out, upon the warmed soggy earth, where the winter's colors
bloom.
The mustard yellows of dried
plants, and bright pinks of Elder branches. The blossoming , small and
yellow, of the Witch Hazel, and the contrasted tangle of grasses everywhere.
The tree, scored by a bear,
to announce it's territory, as only a bear can.
The erasable Bittersweet,
climbing and conquering, leaving us with its vibrant orange and yellow, as it
goes.
The beautiful stark details of tree barks and lichen along their northern sides.
The pungent fragrance of years of layers of pine needles, filling the air. The fresh acerbic aroma of bright green needles covering stolid neighborhoods of piney wood.
The glistening waters,
rippling with each passing breeze; partially frozen, partly not, the
overlapping areas an intricate work of art.
The ochre colors of the
stream, as it makes its way from pond to next stop, alongside so many many
living beings that live by this land; by this water, beneath these skies.
There are so many things we
treasure in our lives.
And myself? I seem to have come full face,
to the
lingering love of the Pine Forest that grew me up
that sang to me as the wind
passed through its boughs
and pressed me with its quixotic strength that told
to hold on
that so much would be possible.
