The
air is tinged with autumn
cool
wind is blowing
the
forest summons
I
must go.
Turn
right onto the perimeter trail
charmed
by little painted rocks
tucked
here and there
down
the big beech trail
where
I linger in fern alley
scan
the big trees for beech nuts
then
cross the sluggish stream on rocks.
I’m
on my way to the sacred circle
which
I haven’t seen since April.
The
wind blows
the
trees sway and creak
crows
are raucous today
I
pause at the sacred circle then up the hill and left
back
onto the perimeter trail.
Pass
the concrete chicken
then
tread through a conifer stand
steps
soft on pine needles and listen
the
wind blowing through the pines
is enough to bring me to a standstill
for
a moment I am a child again
sitting
on a fence-top beneath two big pines.
Now
across the old road, and what is THIS?
It
is one-two-three seedlings of sassafras!
My
great grandmother taught me
three
shapes of leaves
roots
that make a delicious tea
I
have not seen a sassafras in the woods here;
surely
there is a big one around
somewhere
but
I cannot find it.
Onward
downward I make the turn
cross
over the wooden bridge
back
up the perimeter trail
pausing
to rest on the bench.
As
I begin the final uphill stretch
I
notice mold around a beech tree
then
–
what
are those white furry things covering the branch?
Could
it be dancing aphids?
They
are motionless until I smack the branch with my walking stick
they
all start to dance
waving
their tiny white furry selves
both
fascinating and revolting
so
I take a video
and
do my own delighted dance
out
of the forest.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vUtLnj6TPlw
Did I hear someone ask, "What's a concrete chicken?"
