The day dawned warm and clear with bright blue skies. Early mornings offer a quiet escape into the woods. Silence focuses the mind to the present experience of the forest. A snap of a twig, a rock slide in the distance, the sound of the breath as one climbs upward.
Blue skies, white snow, deep green pine needles, the faint sound of water running beneath the ice. Beaver ponds still frozen, withholding the life giving water for the friends of the forest. The absence of frog songs reminds that we are still in winter, despite the warm temperatures. A slight hope of catching a song had been harbored, but was easily released – it will come another day.
Cub Lake is still in its deep freeze. Burned out trees, blackened with soot stand stark against the snowy white background.
As the trail descends into the Big Thompson River drainage a pause to listen to the knock, knock, knock of two woodpeckers. One knock has a deep tone and a slower cadence. The other a quicker cadence and a higher pitch. The alternating knocks are as if they are answering the call of the other. Wonderment at how the pitch of a knock can vary from tree to tree.
The sound of running water announces the arrival at The Pool along the Big Thompson River. Rocky slopes on one side and the Big Thompson on the other make the path obvious to follow. Eyes are drawn to the orange/brown cliffs. Frozen skids along the cliff face mark where a waterfall will be found in another month.
Legs move effortlessly along this oft traveled path. The feet know where to go, allowing the eyes to wander and explore the environs. Stretches of river are still frozen, while other sections have begun the melt. Running water is music to the ear and a point of focus for the eye. The lens is drawn to the frozen edges. Ice appearing as strands of hair illustrate the many forms that water can take.
A delightful treat is happened upon in a quiet bend in the river. A young calf and her mother are diving after new grass sprouts deep in the river. Bubbles from clearing the muzzle can be heard as they push deeper into the water. Water slides off the long hairs hanging from the chin when they come up to chew their harvest.
A moose is a delightful find on any wander through the woods. Joy floods the heart, the eyes moisten, and time is spent silently watching and taking in the beauty of these beasts. Losing oneself in the moment of magic in the forest is the best day of all.
WanderJill
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