My happy place is in the woods... really any woods... alone and awash in my own thoughts. I have the rich blessing of having my own woods, really the responsibility, as steward, to oversee them while in my possession. The ability to listen, to feel nature around me, to feel the sun on me, or a breeze in my face, to smell the changes in the seasons. To sense God's creation coming to life as the sun rises... or to listen to ever growing evening sounds as the sun sets. To see a great owl come flying silently through the deep woods in the dusk. To sit quietly and watch a coyote break cover right beside me... or hear the call of a Tom in the woods. To watch Mallards breaking in to land on the pond... or see the fish break the surface feeding on spring insects. To nest between the cover of two cedar trees along a deer trail and fall asleep... only to wake up by the sounds of does as they tiptoe by through the leaves... or the songs of the coyotes late in the evening in the spring. To watch the leaves turn in the autumn... walking along a trail in a gentle breeze when a tree drops its leaves all at once... the leaves cascading down all around like a gentle rain. The warmth of a camp fire on a crisp fall night... the smell of fresh coffee heating on the edge of the fire... the Milky Way shining on a clear dark night.... or a full moon on a cloudless night - casting moon shadows through the timber. I could go on and on... only in the woods, alone, solitary, am l fully in control of my senses... and only there can l feel what our forefathers felt... complete freedom.
"This is my Father's world,
And to my listening ears,
All nature sings and round me rings,
The music of the spheres."
Blessings,
Hog