As I found myself wandering in the woods, it came to my attention the effect it has on my body. How often do we experience life without considering its effect on us physically? Every piece of information is input that makes me feel alive. The smells… The sounds… The tectures… Their forces combine to wrap me in the wonders of nature.
I breathe deeply. I am always surprised how the air changes when surrounded by greenery. There is nothing like it, for it is as fresh as the morning dew. It is clean. It is crisp. It is pure. Perhaps the autumnal scent of the leaves creates the pleasing aroma of the air. I never tire of this scent. With every breath it refreshes me.
As I continue to walk through the forest, I notice the sound of the leaves next. Their tune fades in and out. Sometimes a dried pile of them evoke a satisfying crunch under my feet. Other times the dampness of the leaves squashes any hope of the delightful crunch that follows me around, announcing my existence. In the respites of leaves lies the squelching mud. Squish. Squish. Squish. Its sound makes me recoil a bit as I navigate through the mud trap. No matter how carefully I step, it decorates the bottoms and sides of my shoes.
My wandering path takes me past a soft, trickling stream. As the water skips and hops across the sticks and grass, small bubbles appear and pop. I can not help but stop for a moment. There is nothing quite as comforting as the quiet pitter-patter of cascading water. To add to the water’s music, an unidentified bird happily sings in a loopdeloop manner–its voice moving steadily up and down, up and down. I enjoy its cheerful song, wishing it to show itself, but it is hidden in the forest somewhere–the mysterious musician. “Why must the creatures always hide themselves?” I wonder disappointedly. After this unexpected concert I absentmindedly continue without a care in the world until I hear a loud snap. It startles me. I look down. I stepped on a good-sized stick. My orneriness kicks in, and I purposely step on it again to hear the satisfying crack. Farther down the way, I see little tufts of green leaves. They almost look like blades of grass except when you pick them a sharp, strong scent catches your nose immediately. It is wild garlic! I repeatedly smell it, captivated by its intense scent.
On my way out of the forest, I am careful to navigate around the large clonglomerations of a hanging dead vine. A single shoot reaches toward the earth. I shake it to be polite. Its body shakes and scrapes against each other. Out of curiosity, I tug at it. Every shoot of the vine remains in place, which is preferable since it would have fallen on me if it had been unstable. As if to scold me, I hear a quick, high-pitched tch tch tch tch. I quickly look around. Again, I can not find the creature responsible for the noise. I believe it is an angry squirrel, but alas, I can not confirm it. On the bright side, in trying to find this mysterious creature, I stumble upon some strange-looking seeds. They are white, fluffy snowballs. They are so tempting. I just had to squish them. They feel like the down used for pillows–soft and bouncy.
I sigh, satisfied by the peace the forest has provided me. It has remembered me. It has sung to me. It has touched me.