This evening I walked just off the trail to explore the area around a tree with a peculiar bend at the base of its trunk. From there I noticed a blowdown that I hadn't noticed before. It turned out not to be a casualty of recent storms (appearing to be at least a year old); I just hadn't noticed it before. Through the opening in the canopy I could see the first quarter moon in the middle of the still blue sky, and I thought of how this would be a nice place to visit on starry nights.
Wandering around I looked around more and suddenly it felt almost as though I were in a different forest. This was the same woods that I walk daily, yet here was a fairly large beech tree that I had yet to admire. There is a stand of river cane that will give Joshua an endless supply of arrow shafts. And there is a small remnant of a stump pierced with a few inches of ancient barbed wire. Looking into the canopy, I was struck by the shapes of basswood and sassafras trees growing in a wild profusion of arches, odd angles, twists, and turns. A little further back toward the house is a large sweetgum surrounded at its base with last year's seed pods scattered about. The cinnamon and gray spiky balls look like tiny versions of medieval weaponry. Three-fourths the way up the hillside and above my daily trail is a fairly flat open area--a rarity in this hollow. Here the ground is even flat enough to pitch a tent or two, if one were so inclined.
The secrets of the forest are ever unfolding. All of this was familiar and yet new, and I was surprised that as many times as I have now walked these woods that there could be any area that I hadn't really explored before, all within sight of the house. I am beginning to doubt that I will ever fully explore this forest to the point where there are no surprises. The changing seasons always bring something new, and the diversity and intricacy of the ecosystem is complex beyond my imagination. The forest is ever new and always revealing fresh wonders and beauty.
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