I started walking down the Ridge Run Trail and the forest began to surround me, filling all my senses. I could feel the uneven forest floor under my feet and the grasses brushing their dew on my legs. I could smell the pine, and oh! the smell! So fresh and pure, untainted by urban expansion. I could see the trees, the rocks, and the lake in the distance. The solitary loon, the bugs humming in little clouds, the pockets of tiny flowers and all the intricacies of the woods that reluctantly make themselves known. And of course, the sound of the wind in the trees, the loon making his occasional melodic call, and an unknown bird off in the distance singing the most beautiful song.
I made my way along the railroad tracks, then up the stone covered path and met Jordy and his loyal pup Jenkins who directed me to patches of wild blueberries. As I continued along the path I started to see them: tiny bushes nestled among the low-lying brush of the Canadian Shield and laden with sweet berries.
Continuing on the path above the lake, I came to a spot where the trees opened up and offered an expansive view of the lake and the yurts where we spent the night. I sat down and listened, watched, and felt. It was easy to be still here. The solitude was invigorating and inspiring. I could spend the entire day sitting in this one spot, just learning the ebbs and flows of the forest.
I want to remember all of this. The lily pads in a cluster at the edge of the lake. The small pine tree in front of me with all its pine cones bunched together at the top of it. The edge of the lake with its marshy grasses and spindly trees sticking out awkwardly and then gradually blending into the forest behind it. The smooth rock that I’m sitting on, gently protruding from the earth with its patches of lichen that get slippery when rained on. The fragile young plants in front of me, rising up from thin soil with tiny pink flowers that stand out against the greens and browns of the mossy ground cover. And of course the lake, glistening in the sun that rises overhead and giving a face to the wind with ripples that move over its surface.
Time as we know it has no place here. Here, time is the movement of the sun, and how it spreads its warmth over the rocky earth.
Until next time,