I enjoy walking through the woods. Whenever an opportunity to do so presents itself, I welcome it. There’s something so idyllic and peaceful about it. However, there’s also something a little strange about it. Many spaces in the woods have a wonderfully welcoming atmosphere about them, and lingering in them can be so uplifting and energising; but, there are also spaces that feel decidedly uncomfortable, disconcerting, even a little malevolent, and the feeling to get away is intense. Strange, I’ve never been able to understand this contradiction. It’s a mystery to me, and I’ve come to accept it like that – even been in awe of it at times.
A Word Picture:
Dry leaves and twigs crunched under his boots as he stomped his way through the bright reds and yellows of Autumn. The path had petered out and he was struggling to find a new one.
He stopped, took a breath and listened for some familiar sound. What if he couldn’t find his way out of these woods? His mobile was in the car and nobody knew where he was. His stomach tightened.
Suddenly, the silence was broken by a cawing crow. He saw the bird a little way from him hopping on a gnarled branch of an old Oak. He saw the sparkle in its eye as it jerkingly scanned the ground. The behaviour was strange, but a welcomed distraction from his rising panic.
He stepped carefully, not so much as to not scare the crow, but rather to cautiously examine what it found so unsettling on the ground. Nothing caught his eye. What he did find, though, to his great relief, was a path – a new path that finally led him out of the woods.
(Sometimes Nature sees and knows)