Yesterday I hiked in the Northwest Bay area. It was a gentle four mile hike with some longtime hiking buddies. The day was crisp and needed layering. The woods were in the in-between of November - in between all the leaves down, all the plants brown with frost. The fern was luciously green. The moss, swollen with water, soft. I sunk my fingers into the sphagnum and club moss and touched a deep inviting world.
Humans belong in the woods. A magic comes over us. We seem alive, curious, ready to play and share. We are subjects among subjects - kin to the trees and fern and moss. We don't need to own and hoard. There is enough of the coolness of moss, the music of flowing stream, the green of fern and foam flower, the tangy smell of duff and dead leaves, the rich ooze of mud. There is more than enough. And we rejoice!
Humans belong in the woods. A magic comes over us. We seem alive, curious, ready to play and share. We are subjects among subjects - kin to the trees and fern and moss. We don't need to own and hoard. There is enough of the coolness of moss, the music of flowing stream, the green of fern and foam flower, the tangy smell of duff and dead leaves, the rich ooze of mud. There is more than enough. And we rejoice!
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