Under the shade of the trees, I can feel the woods breathing all around me. The trees and shrubs, the moss and ground cover, and the hidden animals--all of them are breathing. Sometimes it sounds like one synchronized breath, in and out, in and out. The slight breeze brings the scent of hidden life.
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| Looking out from the shade of the woods. |
As soon as I step out of the woods into sunlight, the
temperature rises dramatically. The cool
moisture I felt on my skin only moments earlier is gone, and I can’t hear the
breathing anymore. Now it’s a different
kind of life, the kind that thrives in the sun and heat. Now there’s a circulating and penetrating
fire baking the skin. The insects here
are louder, and their sounds have a higher frequency. The plant life is rougher, drier, and
sharper. Things seem to move quicker,
and the sweet scent has all but disappeared.
Is it any wonder that I spend my time in the shade of the
woods? Back into the woods, a net of
moisture immediately drops upon me. The
temperature falls dramatically. The air
is sweetly scented, and the insects hum deeper.
There is a sense of things hiding and watching, not in a malevolent way
but just in a curious way. There is time
to pause and relax in the woods. And the
synchronized breath begins again.
