It was a damp day to hike with light mist and even some rain falling yesterday but the temperatures were decent so we decided to hike the Macsherry Trail near Crooked Creek. I wore an orange hat and safety vest as hunting season continues here. We had the entire place to ourselves! Talk about social distancing! It was one of those silent walking days on wet leaves and surfaces. Road noise from Rt 12 would be the loudest sound we’d hear.What made the trip so special for me was being so “tuned in” to my surroundings. The tiny and unusual things along the trail seemed to show themselves everywhere. It reminded me of the transistor radio I had as a kid. The AM stations would be easier to pick up at night. I’d find stations in between stations. Carefully twisting the frequency knob slowly to find that magic spot where the static would fade. A DJ from a distant city would announce the songs many miles away. During the day there’d be nothing but static. Yesterday was like that for me along the trail. The low clouds and falling mist provided a light that was adequate but not intense. There was no bright sky or white clouds to distract us. The leafless forest mostly brown except the tall white pine stands along sections of the trail. So my inner dial would turn and tune my senses into the place of sensory perfection. We’d spot two different buck rubs. Small green wintergreen plants poking through from under the thick layers of fallen oak leaves. Moss and lichens moist and alive with color that wouldn’t be so noticeable in greener months. Beaver stubs along the banks of a very active colony. Their brush pile sunk and ready for winter ice. We strolled slowly and purposefully. Jen would point out things to me and vice versa. One of the coolest things we spotted was a lightning struck white pine! Bark blown off of it in long, narrow strips. We even jumped a pair of deer! Stella spotted them first. One blew and snorted out the alarm.Very common when they are startled. They are masters of camouflage. Their white tails are sometimes all you’ll see as they bolt away into the forest. We’d also notice many weirdly shaped trees. Burls and woodpecker holes. I found the trip of 2.1 miles rewarding in an accumulation of sensory sensations. Tiny drops of rain hanging from twigs. The smell of wet decaying leaves. The taste of a wintergreen leave I briefly sampled. The smooth surfaces of well worn beaver hiking sticks. Well balanced and comfortable to use. The inner dial of spirit peace to find the perfect frequency in the energy that surrounded us. Inspiration lives in that invisible energy field. It would channel to my fingertips today in writing projects. A hike can never be just a hike! It usually becomes something far greater. Mother Nature and her endless charms. I am forever to fall under her captivating spells!Another’s as well! Beauty should be acknowledged and appreciated. Always. 🌲✍️
