Bolin Forest, I Hardly Know Ye

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It could have been a week cooped up inside, a lack of sleep, new parenthood, etc., but Bolin Forest has never looked so full of wonder, so mysterious, so lush, and has never felt so familiar. The clear cut is just as chilling and stark as ever, but we spotted a barred owl on its edge. In fact, we walked in such a deep silence. It felt restorative and refreshing, like the cold, sparkling creek. In a clearing under the deep beech shade we stopped. Sun rays struck downward and dust caught in micro currents reflected the light. A pair of titmice made soft and curious contact calls between tree branches, not unlike the ornate sweep of the cardinal’s song.

Afterwards, we went to Weaver, which is remaking itself new, and talked honestly with one another and tried to make ourselves new, too.

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