Forests of calm and beauty

Sometimes, it’s helpful to remember where you came from, or your earliest memories where you thought like an independent person. For me, that’s time to go back to the forest and remember camping trips with my family, where I was expected to be able to think through logical challenges (clearing a fire pit, navigating around poison ivy) and enjoy moments of calm, listening to the wind in the trees without lots of talking to clutter up the moment. Stretch that forward to summers at camp, and then a job working at a camp. Forests and mountains can help me re-plug into happiness. But I’ve tried living in the middle of a forest, or in a farmhouse with amazing vistas, and too long without a city gets me blue. So here is a happy medium — a safe, forested area in the middle of a city (no not New York).

This one was quirky, complete with St Patrick’s Day [a day late] runners (who were carrying all the ingredients for a grilled picnic, and talking excitedly about the beer at the end of their route), with their green leggings, shamrock headgear, etc. I nearly decided to run after them, although I wasn’t dressed for it.

If I’m with someone else I’ll be happy to go back. Solitude is all well and good, but it’s better to share part of it with someone else who can also enjoy the quiet and the fun of playing “guess what brown bird that is…”

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