Steffe
In the green forest
Stand still and open yourself a bit, as our friend Steffe surely did as he took this photo. I’m not sure he had a choice. Trees like these don’t just let a guy keep walking.
There’s poetry in these lines and rhythms. You can easily get lost in the stubborn upright trunks, and you can find surprising character in patches of bark. If you dwell on the way light brushes each blade of grass, you can look for analogies; you can watch your thoughts turning this way and that, before they drift away.
You have a chance to breathe deep and smell green, all around and over and under you, while you look for water. Soon you’ll be able to tell the greens all apart: the friendly tang of grass, the astringent bite of leaves, the dusty breath of lichen.
When you reach the creek, moss will remind you of something you forgot.
You might think of tranquility as a mood that drifts in quietly, like fog or mist. But here, in these woods, it tends to stomp, like hoofbeats. Otherwise, you might not hear it. It makes you deal with noisy birdsong and musk left on things and weird dirt that won’t wash off for days, if at all. You have to trip over the truth: you’re part of something big, something green, and it will keep on with its business whether or not you pay attention. And if you don’t, it’s okay: the green is always there, and always will be, even if it has to sleep for a while and then come back. It’ll get you sooner or later, and you’ll be glad.
Blog photograph copyrighted to the photographer and used with permission by utata.org. All photographs used on utata.org are stored on flickr.com and are obtained via the flickr API. Text is copyrighted to the author, Jenn Wilson and is used with permission by utata.org. Please see Show and Share Your Work
