Friday, April 15, 2016


I could see that there were many people at the outskirts of the forests. Walkers, dog enthusiasts, so forth. Luckily most of them head right. I head left. Some people go that way, - but not many. It’s actually private property. It looks the same as the rest, and of course, existentially, it’s the same forest and sky and birds don’t follow property line rules. 

In I went. Some couple leaving, which was good, and one of the dogs gives em’ a bit of trouble but that is all right. The birds sing and there are small yellow flowers about. The sky is a grand cover, and this day all kinds of jet streams seem to be drawing themselves out across those heavens.

I heard the old farmer’s tractor. I can see him go past, surveying the land, and it turns out he is on his way to cut a few trees that have fallen- to clear the trunks out of the way. The saw is loud, but the environment absorbs the noise. Echoes can be heard all through the valley and even up by the golden hills.

We walk up there, - and then go down towards the cover. Myriad
pathways and all kinds of different trees. Sometimes a corridor opens up. The mushrooms are growing and there is plenty of moss that lives on fallen branches or old stationary rocks.

The sky can still be seen through the trees. It’s to the left as one goes in and to the right as one goes out.  Blue, as it should be at that time. In the coming weeks and months whole worlds will live in that sky. The different types of clouds. The pre-storm energies, the storms themselves, - the air afterwards, clean- new, - born again…

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