It's late. Everything waxes silent. Except perhaps the peepers
I'd heard being in the forest reduces the burdens of the day. Of life.
Sending regret down its own separate path.
With hope wending its way back.
There in the forest.
There in the dark.
Reckon that's true. All of it.
Escapism by a different name. Uninduced yet deliberate. Unasked but all giving.
The forest can be a beautiful place at night.
Will they understand?
Can they feel it, there in the words?
One of the things I love to find in the forest are the signs and tracks of the critters that have walked there before me--and then, relatively recent.
Upstate New York's forest still teem with many type of animals, with some species making an incredible comeback over the past few decades to include the wild turkey, fisher cat (which is not a cat but a part of the weasel family), and the bobcat.
So here's a sample of some signs and tracks of what's in the backyard (in some cases, literally).