A Walk in the Woods

Every city has its natural escape. A walk in the wooded hills of Nashville is one of the few graces of a land-locked, cold place. The trees still suffer the death of winter, but a slow resurrection is coming--a transformation into the green freshness of spring-summer. Since moving to Nashville, I have come to appreciate the full cycle of seasons despite my loathing of all things connected with winter. The beauty of the dead trees is the imaginative expectation or remembering of the once green place. Sitting on a rock in the middle of the forest one can remember how the green changed the scene yet see far deeper into the trees than possible when leaves hinder the view. The death of winter allows one to see far deeper within the forest... and maybe the self, too. When the forest is so quiet without the humming of insects or rustling movement of chipmunks, distractions are few and inner meditation is more pronounced. The walk in the forest is more delightful when a friend comes along. Something good can come out of the stillness in winter....despite the bitter cold.