Rural Rhapsody
When I sat in the early morning hours on a log, I was able to survey the countryside around me. Beyond my feet lay muted ecru-colored tufts of dried grass that spread carpet-like to cover the forest floor. Clusters of ground-pine meandered in random whimsical patterns through the dried grass. Spiders hung silvery thin threads to sew the branches to dangle delicate webbed designs. Those spider threads glistened in the sun’s first rays. Briers sported sharp needles that snagged and tugged at my clothing as I settled into place on the log. They retained leathery green and red colored leaves amid the random brown leaves stubbornly clinging to trees around me. Tangles of fallen branches and felled trees wove a jumble of woodsy design, adding depth and height to the forest floor landscape. The trees that refused to shed their leaves wore a ragged cloak of brown. At their feet, fronds of ferns were covered in a frosty glaze that glistened as the first rays of sunlight stroked their curved and feathery stems.
Blue-green lichen clung to the trees interspaced with patches of yellow-green moss. Their interplay brightened the dark roughened bark and frosty areas. Layers of frilly fungi layers stepped down the tree trunk in rows. Nodules of decay and umbrella types of fungus found places to grow on fallen tree trunks.
The sun rose and cast conflicting ribbons of shadows and streamers of light. Interlacing bare branches stretch from the tree trunk pillars to create supports for the blue sky and white-cloud vaulted ceiling. A light wind stirred the clouds, painting an ever-changing panorama above. Vagrant puffs of icy air stirred the briar leaves causing their stems to nod at the breeze’s passing. The brown leaves shift causing them to whisper soft songs.
Earthy flavors stirred by the breeze rise to fill my nostrils. Decaying leaves cover the winter-bared ground. Their frosty glazes begin to melt as the sun’s warming fingers stroke the leaves. The thick mat of fallen leaves share the names of the trees around them, oak, poplar, beech, maple, and birch. The shapes of their discarded summer garb create an interlocking puzzle of shapes, colors, and sizes.
An occasional bird’s call breaks the morning’s silence interspersed with an occasional flutter of wings. A gray squirrel scurried into view with its thick tail flicking as is scampers up one tree and leaps into another. Finally the cold sends me back to the warmth of my house.