Wednesday, May 4, 2011
While the news from the outer world has been tumultuous these past few days, I have taken sanctuary in the woods. Carrying bundles of brush up the path to the pile, placing them, walking back to pick up the next pile and repeating the whole process over and over. It's quiet, contemplative work and while I move brush from one place to another I have time to notice some of the tiny treasures. The wonderful rust color of the decaying wood with the beetles having lunch on the wood, the patterns of bark, the blooming of the moses clinging to wood and stone, the dog tooth violet blooming at my feet that I almost stepped on, the shapes of the fungus attached to trees, even the color of a wound on a tree trunk.