Our host today for the third and final day of the August Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com is Joanne Emery, who inspires us to write poems about being deep in nature and the sensory and inner feelings associated with it. You can read her full prompt, and the poems of others, here. My poem today will follow the photos of our trail walk we took on Saturday.
Over the weekend, we took our two four-legged sons Boo Radley and Ollie to F. D. Roosevelt State Park for a quick getaway in the Wayfarer. While there, we took a hike along Mountain Creek Trail, and even though it was hot, the shade provided a respite from the extreme temperatures and the heat advisory in effect.
We like to start the day at the top of the mountain with a picnic breakfast overlooking the valley below Pine Mountain. Where many campers cook full breakfasts on outdoor kitchens, we like to take the easy route and buy coffee and muffins at the registration center and find a picnic table. The boys expect bites of blueberry muffin, and sometimes we cave in to their pressure.
The hike begins with Briar and Boo Radley in the lead, and Ollie and I follow. We make sure they stay on leashes in case we encounter other critters – human, canine, or reptilian, or other – on the trails. On Saturday, we did not meet or pass one other person. In fact, the trail was eerily silent of birdsong, traffic, voices, and even rustling of leaves in the wind.
The different types of mushrooms are always fascinating to me, including this one that is a shelf/bracket fungus that is either turkey tail or a lookalike. We also saw several patches of bright orange colored chicken of the woods and oyster mushrooms as well.
F. D. Roosevelt State Park has a naturalist who offers foraging classes on occasion when mushrooms are bountiful, and I have always wanted to attend the session and learn more about mushrooms and their benefits. I would still be reluctant to eat a wild mushroom, but I’d love to learn more about them.
Getting across the bridges is always interesting. Boo Radley hesitates and sometimes decides to go around the side. Ollie never hesitates and always turns around to be sure I made it across safely once he’s on the other side (how your dog tells you you’re old without telling you you’re old). Even though they’re schnoodles, they have the sense of adventure of sled dogs sometimes – they put themselves in four-wheel drive and pull us along.
They like to play in the streams, and as long as the water is running clear, we let them. On Saturday, they took drinks and walked around to cool off when we took a short break to let them play in the creek.
The natural ferns speak to me in whispers of my mother, reminding me I’m fortunate not to have crippling anxiety, my father echoing her: stress is a killer, I can hear him say. But not in these woods, not on this trail, not deep in nature. Nature heals.
I’m surprised I remembered the fairy tree door, but I knew when I reached the top of one hill that it would be on the other side. Sure enough, it was there, protecting the forest treasures inside – fairies, woodland critters, swag for those who take one and leave one.
And I kept watching for signs of fall in all the heat. Here and there, dotting the trail, were red or yellow leaves. I picked up several fallen acorns and put them in my pocket. I reflected on yesterday’s post about Noah and his wife, and the hope God sends in leaves. Yes, my answer is clear: God does still send hope in leaves. Ask and ye shall receive.
On Mountain Creek Nature Trail, Saturday August 15
Boo Radley leads
Ollie follows
four-wheel drive kicks in
along the trail
splashing in creeks
crossing bridges
inhaling fresh air
underfoot crunch of pine needles
and acorns giving us
out-of-office peace
resetting the focus
to the moment
with each step
deeper and deeper
into the woods
red leaves bringing
the hope of autumn
Common Threads 