After a lovely week off with my husband, today I was back at work, and as I walked along the road towards the woods, I quickly realised how much I missed it in the past 7 days as I quickened my step with the call from the trees.
Once amongst them, my pace slowed with the slippery mud, but that was no problem for me as I felt at home once more amongst the moss, lichen, and fungi.
Sitting for a while in a glade of sunlight, I noticed how much more the bracken had died back in the past week and one of the old oak trees appears to have lost another limb in my absence. No doubt a victim of storm Bert. Holly lay on the ground, and leaves were upturned. Evidence that the small herd of ponies that reside in this wood aren't far away. Boughs are bare, and the moss is greener than a week ago?
It seems the woodland is taking one last deep sigh in the last of its letting go before the time of stillness. In the glimmering warmth of the weakening sun, I enjoyed the stillness of the woods. Not a breath of wind, which allowed me to hear every creak and crackle from the evolving and shifting trees. Every paw step from squirrels and a fox. Every mindful hoof step from ponies and deer and every joyful song from robins and dunnocks.
It's good to be back catching leaves as they fall, while the rythmns of my heart, thoughts, and steps sync back in line with nature 🌳🍂
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