forest floor

Yesterday, I hiked through the depth of the forest. I tried to keep my mind still. In the morning I had looked at my house and promised myself I would clean that afternoon. The floors were so dirty and the dust thick enough to see on the bookshelves and cupboards. When I walked in the forest and appreciated that forest floors never need cleaning. The forest doesn’t need to be tidied. It is beautiful in its chaos and clutter, in the scatter of leaves that fall and slowly decay, in the fallen wood and the sprouting fern, the drape of moss and spider web. The forest is becoming very cluttered now in spring, new growth, new color sprouting everywhere. Every inch of forest is coming alive.

And I appreciated the simple diversity of the forests. The inhabitants unabashedly living side by side, touching, intertwining with one another: Fern reaches tall to touch rose. Rose lives happily in the shade of fir tree. Fir tree stands stately beside Oak. Oak is covered in fluorescent green moss and has yet to sprout new leaves. And a poison oak vine climbs up the moss. Small finches rest and nest in every tree and shrub. A vole digs into the soil uprooting mushroom. Deer nests crush dead grass into beautiful hollows.

And everything is green now. Trillium and lily are emerging from the soft wet ground. Bunch grasses cover any open forest floor. Small blasts of color paint fruit tree and an occasional shrub. The forest is gaudy, showing off its thick new growth and cluttering every surface with abandon. In the face of all this abundance, I stay on the path where the brush has been cleared so that I can walk easily without getting caught or wet in all this new growth.

The paths have been groomed for me. These little traces of human order superimposed on the chaos of the forest. The paths are kept tidy to encourage us not to wander off. They are going to improve my favorite trail. Flourescent orange markers have been placed along the path indicating areas for ‘improvement:’ fill, widen, water bags, turnpike. Trees adjacent to the trail have been painted with a blue stripe and I worry that they will be cut. My favorite trail must be well used if it is receiving all this attention, but I rarely see anyone on it. It is very steep, I sweat and my heart pump hards to get me up to the top. I am alone on this trail, with my puppy, the forest and my God. The four of us have long conversations while I hike that trail.