It's been an awfully long time since I sat down to write a post here on Hive.
The solar eclipse came and went, my daughter turned 6, and Summer announced itself early here in Ohio. Although we've had at least a dozen 80+ degree days since Spring kicked off, it wasn't until yesterday that I made time to walk in the woods.
It was one of those storybook kind of days... The clouds stuck to the sky like cotton candy, fluffy and welcoming against the bright blue.
I imagined this one was an elephant watering can (like the one in Animal Crossing). It's smiling face is set to the task of nurturing what is to come, watering all of the wonderful.
I followed my multicolor child along, ready to take whatever walk he was planning to bring me on.
He's now the age where he has an opinion on things such as the shirt he wears. I'd rather foster his growth and confidence by letting him decide for himself on these matters than stress his clothes matching... but gosh his outfits have become interesting lately! 😂
Following his lead obviously meant a pit stop at the tiny playground that is nestled in the trees.
Luckily, he was just as happy to see the forest as I was. Soon we were under the lush canopy of the branches. It's been raining a lot here, so the path was quite muddy.
It always makes me grin to see how aggressively plants seek survival. They climb over one another, tripping in their attempt to live on.
Sometimes it seems they flourish out of spite. A jab back at a cold world.
This little seedling made me think of the garlic on my counter at home. It's been dried for some time, recently peeled to retrieve a few cloves for a recipe. Imagine my surprise when I awoke to find it sprouting the next morning! It reminds me that there is always a way forward.
I haven't been positive enough lately, and I fear it's nerfed me quite badly. I have terrible depression, and life is more than willing to keep handing me reasons to sink into it.
My mind is more inclined to notice all of the fallen trees. To think of the ground rot caused in our attempt to make the world for us. I find contempt, dismay, and anger boiling in my gut. It always subsides to sadness in the end though. The me that is everyone else aches in a way my body cannot contain.
With nothing else to do, I pick up my best weapon.
Perspective.
I see the evidence of chlorophyl in nearby stumps, proving that nature is so much more loving than we give it credit for.
I look at how many things are sprouting against the odds all around me. I remember that resilience is a multiplier, making a little go a long way.
Among the trees, my anxiety releases. My mood brightens. I become present in my body, feeling the pleasant burn in my legs as I walk along. I've recently taken up jogging, and so far I hate it.
It's nice to just stroll along, collecting the steps on my pedometer without a particular fitness goal in mind. Emory holds my hand much of the way, the ground is slippery and we skate on its surface.
As we came to a clearing, I noticed something perched on a stone wall. Too curious to avoid any potential traps set by the Fae, I investigated.
It was a beautiful camping backpack, nearly new. Hoping it's owner finds it, I wrapped it back up in the tarp thingy it was in and left it there.
We headed back to more solid ground on the main path. Wary of bears, banshees, and bog spirits, Emory armed himself with this sword.
He looks properly tough, I wouldn't take the chance of messing with him!
Much like myself, my children are drawn to water. We found our feet carrying us towards the river, and Emory had quite a lot to say about that!
Sometimes it's hard to believe Emory will be three soon, other times I forget he is still two, for now.
He went from a handful of words to hundreds in a verbal landslide, as kids do. I'm constantly impressed by his sentence structure and the complexity of the concepts he chooses to convey to me. He wanted to play "sink or float", and began chucking objects into the river.
He would announce sink or float before each item touched the water, correctly predicting that a leaf would float, but a stick would sink. As he tired of this game, I watched his body relax, taking in his surroundings with bright eyes.
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Closer to the water's edge, we stopped for a time again so Emory could investigate. He examined the rocks in a squat before noticing the sun on the water, then he stood transfixed. Two rare moments of stillness in the life of a lad, observed with gratitude.
With big sister arriving home from school soon, it was time to start stumbling back to our neck of the woods. It's never easy for either of us to go.
As we headed home, I spotted this squirrel having an afternoon snack. It kept its eyes fixed on us, ready to bolt should we venture too close to it. On guard or not, nothing was stopping this squirrel's tiny hands tuning the acorn it was eating in a loop as it chewed.
I thanked the trees mentally as we said goodbye for a wonderful walk. I found my heart lighter, my mind more determined.
Today it is raining again, but that is okay. I remember the lessons the forest gave me yesterday.
I'm grateful. I'm resilient. I'm growing.
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