SAVOR THE MOMENT: THE FERN FOREST
Come. Enter the forest with me and savor moments among the ferns. In dappled sunshine we’ll follow the worn path. Come. Join me.
The sounds of footfalls disappear into the blanket of pine needles that cover the earth. Each step removes us from the artificial, hectic, often stressful world outside the trees. Let our concerns of life fade and for the moments to come let the forest embrace us. Feel the cool moisture caress your skin, refresh yourself, deeply inhale the musty earthiness, engage your ears in the sounds of life – the screech of the blue jay and the woodpecker – the chick-a dee-dee dee – the chattering of the red squirrel voicing his opinion of our presence – the continuous chorus of crickets and the whine of the cicada. Hear the wind singing in the trees. Let the forest wrap you and I in comfort.
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Quietly we amble deeper into the shadows. Before the canopy engulfs us completely, a small clearing appears where wildflowers have thrived.
Dancing in the breeze and haloed in sunshine, their colors shout enticing bees. Delicate orange and yellow orchid-like flowers dangle on slender stems – upright spears of purple – the yellow of goldenrod and the white of Queen Ann’s Lace -berries of blue and cream temp birds seeking nourishment.
The scene is appealing but there’s more to taste so we move farther into the shade.
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Though the season of rain has slipped by, the creek still runs over stones. It babbles and gurgles below the eroding bank verdant with mosses. The waters persist awaiting the onset of winter snows and the liquid abundance of spring runoff. We can rest on a stump and indulge ourselves in the gentle conversation of the waters. A leaf falls in the stream and our eyes follow it as it floats by only to get captured on stones and twigs. It escapes to swirl in the tiny eddies until it vanishes from our view. I will cast my stresses into the creek and let them disappear with the leaf. Reluctantly we rise and travel deeper into the dimness – back in time – hundreds of millions of years when simple plants, the ferns, mosses, algae and fungi dominated the primordial world.
The woods are the essence of life and death.
We find a giant of the woodland that has died and fallen to the ground. Its death allows new life to flourish. The wooden remains teem with varieties of mosses, lichen and fungi. Stroke the mosses and feel how the leaflets of one are soft and fuzzy to the touch while another has blades of growth browner and courser.
They cover the bark with a carpet of life and rest beside the fungi which have opened their caps spreading another generation. The ferns cluster near the decaying tree absorbing nutrients from the process. Let us drink in the now. Let the past that is no longer of use to us fall as the tree allowing for future life to succeed.
Though the trees tower around, there is much more here in the shade than the macro world most obvious to us. A micro world exists near our feet on the forest floor. Tiny gems of nature so often go unnoticed. Bend down near the earth and capture the club moss for your memory.
The dainty cluster of branches resemble a minute tree though it is not one. The decaying bark of the birch curls revealing crumbling wood. In our micro neighborhood we find the infant pines – descendants of the fallen – children growing in the rich humus. A compliment of lichens – pale gray and prickly to the touch or olive green and rough decorate the granite plentiful in these woods.
As we continue our journey in the now, we notice that many boulders are not in their natural position. Nature has not always dominated these lands. Long ago farmsteads had a foothold. But the trees and ferns have reclaimed what man created. All that remains today are stone walls crumbling and falling to eventually vanish. The lichen will biologically weather them to blend with the soil and the ferns will reign supreme once again. Ghosts of foundations and livestock enclosures remain. The forest is healing the wounds from humankind.
We notice the shade is deepening. The daylight wanes and, though our time among the ferns is getting short, the river calls us.
The trail winds through the lushness. We hear the wind – driven waves lapping upon the shore before we can see the current. We scramble down to the wide beach and gaze at the flow reflecting the mountains and the clouds. The waters reach the shore in little crests and collapse – like a heartbeat or breathing.
We skirt the water’s edge. The river has eroded the banks threatening a pine’s grip on the shoreline. The boughs tilt almost caressing the stream and creating a roof above our heads. We walk under its shelter.
Tangles of driftwood accumulate along the riverbank some smooth, stripped of bark and others textured.
Boulders have been released from the earth and dot the shore. The high-water line, from the seasonal ebb and flood, stains the rock. Lichens of pale gray decorate the hard surface – a stiff but delicate pattern contrasts against the dark, glossy mineral.
Continuing down the beach, which alternates between gravel and sand, a maple tree branch confronts us as if to say, “look at me”. We admire the exquisite symmetry of the foliage – the veins optimally placed to bring nutrition to each cell. We appreciate the perfection of the serrated leaf edge – chlorophyll green soothing to the eyes.
The water whispers an invitation to enter. With naked feet we cross the sand to find open shells of fresh-water clams.
I wonder what consumes them in this river so their nacre remains can gleam in the sun. At first the water feels uncomfortably cool but, once accustomed to it, it seems pleasantly warm. We can flex our toes in the spongy bottom and relish the unusual sensation. Wandering out to deeper water we can tease the river grass. Feel the long blades dance in our hands with the rhythm of the waves.
Time seems to melt away while hearing the wind in the trees and the song of the waters. Rambling to dry land, I want to occupy a driftwood seat and linger by the river savoring each moment in the fern forest. Will you join me?
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