As the sun filters through the canopy, a bit of light falls on the huckleberry…. Moment by moment, as we walk through the forest, small beauties and larger ones are lit up. I never tire or walking the trail, as its always different as the angle of light shifts with the time of day, and with the seasons. Even on gloomy or rainy days, a walk in the forest trail is a deep joy.
This morning’s walk in the forest was a delight with the sun slanting through and highlighting the shapes of trees and roots.
A couple of times I simply had to stop and note the way the sun was highlighting a particular place, as though it was important for us to look and see the lines, the design, the light and shadow.
This photo is one of several I took at those moments, noting what nature’s spotlight was showing me.
What ‘Nature’s Spotlight’ has pointed out to you today?
I have loved walking in the forest since I was small. It is, for me, a place of mystery, of wonder— and a veritable feast of beauty.
Here in this image, the warm sun pierces the canopy— its light falling on the tender fresh green of a young hemlock.
What is it about this that evokes such pleasure? even a simple joy... I wonder.
Yesterday, walking in Galiano's Heritage Forest, my eye was drawn to the shapes of the trees— the shapes that will soon be hidden by the profusion of leaves.
Mixed with the evergreens are are are several willow trees of varying kinds, along the main path. They’ve been there, as their size indicates, for years and years, but it wasn’t til yesterday that the light caught them in a certain way, and I ’noticed’ them. They are, to me, absolutely beautiful— the stature of the tree as a whole, and the detail of the slender curves…
I will likely post several more photos of these and other trees in the days ahead, either here or on my Curious Spectacles Facebook page which you can find here.
Sunlight diffused by a the thin fog sifts through the trees. It was surprisingly chilly, yet even the winter sun can warm the ground and raise a mist to meet with the fog.
The colours are muted and soft along the Heritage Forest Road, and the ground is rock hard, frozen solid. It may look like there's little life in the landscape, that it everything is 'dead'. Dull. How far from the truth!
As we walked the road what struck me was how many signals there were that even in the quiet stillness of winter, and its apparent barrenness, there is a pulsing vitality to the season: the creeks burble beneath a skim of ice, lichens hang conspicuously from limbs all round, colourful slime molds are 'there' for the observant eye as are various fascinating fungi; winter birds— wrens, sparrows, nuthatches, chickadees and towhees flit amongst the low shrubs while the finches and others occupy the higher branches; the deer meander and graze undisturbed. Surely the forest pulses with life as much in winter as any season.
I wonder if maybe the forest and its creatures enjoy the relative quiet. Maybe its their 'sabbath'.
When the sun came out after a morning of heavy rain, the light in the forest was dramatic. Intense and beautiful— light and shadow; texture and pattern; colours and hues.
Finlay Lake Conservation Area - Click on image for a larger view
We'd wanted to walk in to Finlay Lake for a while, so with the sun shining brilliantly, it seemed a good day to set out for this quiet spot.
The path leading through the forest was bursting with spring shoots, and the birds were singing in the canopy above us, and the winter wrens and towhees rustling in the ferns and salal.
When the path opened to the lake there were a few Buffleheads on the far side, but otherwise all was still. Occasionally a raven's call echoed through the trees, and an eagle flew past. Otherwise, simply stillness— but a stillness that is burgeoning with life.
Clearly I have an affinity to the deep mystery of rainforest beauty. The moody grey weather invited another walk along the lower trails of Bluff Park. Its impossible for me to walk these paths without thinking of stories and fairy tales, and of Ents and Hobbits— I have yet to see one of those, but doesn't this scene make you wonder if maybe... if we waited very quietly ... ?
This afternoon for a change of pace, I'll go and hunt for some early spring buds, but for now, its deep forest that I want to share.
The broom that lines the old road along which we walked this morning was glowing gold, the same rich yellow that the blooms of June display.
But this is mid January.
Rather than June’s golden bloom this was winter’s answer to springtime vibrance— thick gold lichens along the length of the dead grey broom twigs. Winter life. Life in a different mode.
These branches won’t bloom next spring. They’ve spent themselves already. But their winter glory is beautiful all the same.
But its not simply the sight of this surprising beauty. Its also the thought it stirs in me— the thought that this brilliance doesn't emerge from the broom itself, but rather is a gift, covering its dead twigs. It is clothed in a glory that's given.
A good reminder. Another glimpse of grace amidst the ordinary meanderings of the day.
