If you walk in the woods with me, plan on walking alone.
While you are getting your heart rate up, I will be bending down to examine red berries.
You will jump over this log, but I will stop to admire a fungi castle on top, among a forest of moss.
You will be looking strait ahead , but I will look down to watch a woolly worm wiggle across my path.
You will quickly round this curve in the trail, I will pause to wave at a big old rock that is smiling at me.
You will loudly stroll by these stones, but I know a troll lives here, so I will I tiptoe past quietly.
You will avoid muddy spots , but I will closely to examine them for prints of the claws of my other friends.
When you see this tree, you will frown at this hole in the trunk,
but I will smile because I know that it is a door to a fairy’s home.
So you go on ahead,
I will be behind you
enjoying all the wonders that you missed as you hurried past.
FLOW (Moseying through the Mountains)
It’s hard for me to leave tasks unfinished.
Since I am never finished, I rarely voluntarily stop working.
Sometimes a family intervention is needed.
This weekend I was forced to stop weeding, washing and writing
to travel up river by boat with the kayaks piled onto the front.
We have been wanting to do this for years.
There are side channels of the river that can only be reached by canoes and kayaks.
We anchored the boat and paddled under bridges
and through leaning trees to explore two of these protected areas.
I was pleased to see that nesting boxes and platforms had been erected for bird habitats.
The turtles, fish and snake I saw seemed undisturbed by my floating by.
I felt this was not only a haven for them, but also for me.
Maybe it’s time for FLOWER to get back to biology?
I returned home wet, tired and hungry…but with a new attitude.
Let’s call it water therapy.
I have been watching in amazement this morning as
a mama squirrel has been relocating her babies to a different tree
BEFORE the storm hits.
How does she know?
I have watched her carry three little ones high up into a new tree.
She has taken the same route each time, across the gravel, down the steps,
through the fern garden, across the lawn and up to the top of the tree.
What has told her that her home was not safe?
Was it a crick-cracking sound during the wind gusts?
Why this morning? Not much is going on here.
What does she know that I do not?
We shall see. If a tree falls during the storm,
I bet it will have an empty squirrel’s nest among its branches.
This life lesson started out with a lost lens cap.
It fell out of my pocket in the woods.
Now it’s fall here.
So if I don’t find it soon, it will be covered with leaves.
There are no paths in my woods.
I meander around without much notice of my location.
These are my woods. I can’t get lost, but a lens cap can.
I felt obliged to go look for it. It would be easier to find a needle in a haystack.
I took my camera, as usual.
I was looking for a round, dark, man-made object.
Here are my pictures from the search.
Round, dark, man-made objects. Blah!
Today, I went into my woods looking for nothing.
I found everything!
Moss, mushrooms, fairy houses, lichens…
and (NO LIE) the lens cap.
Open mind… Open eyes…
See everything while looking for nothing.
Go with the FLOW.
There are tiny treasures all around you,
but you can’t see them if you are stiff-necked and straight-backed.
You have to get closer.
You are high-up and they are lowly.
If you can’t bend, you will miss them.
Lean in to look at the little jewels.
You wouldn’t hold a diamond out to examine it.
Tiny does not mean insignificant,
nor does big mean important.
Beauty trumps size.
You are missing things up there.