I Went Into the Woods

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms...” 

- Henry David Thoreau

I love that quote.  I went to the woods behind the hen house on our property for that reason, but also went there to catch a predator.  We had some hens that were killed by a predator and I was looking for a trail to place a cage trap on.  (Editor's note: I placed the trap on the trail, baited it with cat food and caught a big, fat possum.  The hens rejoice!)

Back to the woods.  The morning was gorgeous.  The morning sun was softly filtering through the foliage of the trees and the beauty of the forest drew me in.  The forest floor was carpeted with beautiful greenery.  Small birds hopped among the branches of low hanging tree limbs as I walked along.

The greenery covered every square inch of the damp ground in every direction.  The air was cool, crisp, and clean.

If you look closely at the leaves, do they remind you of something?  They look like the leaves of strawberries.  I call these "wild strawberries," but I'm not sure what they are.  A closer inspection shows yellow flowers hiding in the leaves. 

The woods are a place of wonderment, peace, and beauty, but is also a place of violence.  This is evidenced by the feathers of one of the small birds I mentioned before.  Earlier this morning or perhaps just last night, a hawk or owl feasted on an unsuspecting bird, satisfying his appetite and littering the wild strawberry leaves with tiny feathers.

Some type of mushroom covers a branch, accelerating its decomposition.

There is also some sort of moss growing on the base of the trees - just like carpet.

Soon the bark will surrender to a velvety covering of moss encroaching every square inch just as the wild strawberries do.

Over toward the east, something catches my eye.  Overnight a crawfish climbed out of her burrow and built a 'crawfish chimney.'  The mud was still soft and moist.  If I had a shovel with me, I could dig her up.  She's got lots of little crawfish with her.  I'll let her be.

There are wild ferns poking up from the soil, through the decomposing leaves and rotting wood.

Looking a little further, I locate the primary reason (other than the leaves) that I call them wild strawberries...

Against my better judgment, I popped the so-called wild strawberry into my mouth and chewed.  I quickly spit it out.  Not sweet.  Not good.  At least the walk through the woods was nice and enjoyable.  Sometimes just slowing down and deliberately observing the simple things all around you is the best thing you can do on a Saturday morning.