Frost was in the woods in the winter, I know, but these words describe the woods in spring and summer too.
I love walking into a heavily shaded section along a wooded path and feeling the temperature drop and the silence deepen softly where little rays of sun occasionally seep through to the floor of the woods. But darkness pervades and offers respite from the sun and heat.
Ferns carpet the floor , under an umbrella of green leaves, the silence broken by the occasional woodpecker calling it's mate. The understory is gently covered with tiny wild flowers, shyly spreading in all directions.
Eventually, I pass the sunny spot where wild flowers, like red clover, plantain and mugwort grow uninhibited by lawnmower, or weeder. I notice several "useful herbs" among the vegetation and wonder if perhaps someday, a cure for many of our killing diseases might be found in these plants that most people refer to as weeds.
A walk in the woods is never complete until one finds a brook or stream or a tiny lake. The water provides a growing spot for the tall reeds where the red-winged black birds love to nest and play. Today the yellow flag, a wild iris that grows in the shallows, is in full bloom and the swans and snowy egret and the geese all vie for attention.
Heading home, I walk through my suburban neighborhood and pretend that all the gardens I pass are part of my "estate." After all, if I can see them, I can enjoy them. I love the flowers on this Kousa Dogwood, a small tree I covet but have no room for in my yard.
Do you walk in the woods? Why?