Forest Music

In the summer, surrounded by green, it's funny the things I can miss. 

In the woods today, patches of moss catch my eye, 

 standing out bright against a muted background, softening rocks...

and tree trunks with their soft velvet. 

Along the trail, small streams, born from last night's rain, sing their first song, 

lifting their voices in chorus to praise their Maker.  

A waterfall adds to the melody...

and spills its foam into the current. 

 The nearby velvet, saturated, drips out a percussion...  

and even a bare winter woods becomes a cathedral.

The familiar path to the hollow is never the same twice, 

but it is always full of wonder and beauty, 

and with the little streams, we lift our hearts in praise.

Texture by Kim Klassen

Back to the Woods

Wild Oats

It felt good to be in the woods this morning.  For most of the summer, we leave it to the ticks and chiggers, and content ourselves with being somewhat civilized, taking morning walks in the neighborhood.  But coming back to the familiar trail in the woods was like slipping into a favorite flannel shirt, soft and comfortable.  The fragrance of wild mint greeted us as we set out, strong underfoot.  Don cleared a fallen tree from the path, and cedar incense filled the air. We walked through wild oats, grown up in the path, those wind chimes of the woods, and sneeze weed (aptly named) that clustered along the way like bright spots of sunshine.  Barley tagged along until it was clear that we were headed home, then, like an arrow released from the bow, he shot for home, where he waited for our return.

Sneezeweed

And life is good.