The Woods
We went to the woods last weekend.
I don't know quite what it is about a maze of paths winding around dizzyingly tall pine trees that excites me. It might be the smell of the pines, or maybe the dappled sunlight. Or the winding path of crumpled leaves, or the fallen trees displaying the intricate patterns of rings that form year on year, or that golden glow through last year's yellowing leaves. Or maybe the people you pass, deep in a cloud of their thoughts, so far away from the busyness of life. Maybe it's the sound of gleeful children cheering and giggling muffled by that hushed forest stillness that comes with the fresh evening air.
I don't know what it is, but there's definitely something beautiful about the woods.
I don't know quite what it is about a maze of paths winding around dizzyingly tall pine trees that excites me. It might be the smell of the pines, or maybe the dappled sunlight. Or the winding path of crumpled leaves, or the fallen trees displaying the intricate patterns of rings that form year on year, or that golden glow through last year's yellowing leaves. Or maybe the people you pass, deep in a cloud of their thoughts, so far away from the busyness of life. Maybe it's the sound of gleeful children cheering and giggling muffled by that hushed forest stillness that comes with the fresh evening air.
I don't know what it is, but there's definitely something beautiful about the woods.