We ventured forth, just after 3pm, to walk in the woods, along from the end of the village, over the manicured golf club lawn and penetrating deep among the moss-covered trunks by the path littered with fallen leaves. The damp colours seemed to shimmer in the last light of the day.
There’s a little circuit through the forest, by way of a circling path and around to the bench with the long perspective, where it was too damp to sit. So we admired the deep view, and continued on around. By the time we got back to our cosy cottage, the street lights were coming on. I put a couple more logs on the fire and lay down on the handy sofa to have a bit think.
It’s often said, these days, that a gentle stroll in the natural cathedral of a woodland is a calming tonic for a frenzied mind. So it felt to us, though we heard no sound save a few chattering starlings and intermittent vehicles passing on the road below. We met not a single soul, and the overwhelming sensation was one of timeless peace and tranquility.
We could definitely use a bit of that ourselves, as we get ready for another foray into the preparation for the big move ahead. What was offered to us, then, we gratefully received, in between the long days of persistent rain.
The joys of such a respite are many, too many perhaps to properly elucidate with words. It makes sense to combine images with text to try to get at that sense of peace offered, and solace received.
Autumn wood. The joy of transition into a different place.