the forests of the blue ridge mountains are beyond beautiful in any season.
but there is something about that first crisp autumn weekend, when the leaves are just barely beginning to turn and still mostly clinging on to the tree, that lures us into the woods in search of the magic and healing that only nature can give.
the green is greener here.
a few steps off the path the forest's understory is soft and deep.
that light, delivered in radiant beams or feathery dapples, is otherwordly.
shedding our real world armor and reflecting the space, we are kind, quiet, open, lush.
we are small.
and marvel at the smaller.
we are happy and content in the forest's inherent balance of risk and play, folly and groundedness.
or to just be still and stare in wonder and delight without rush or pressure.
absolved and restored.
with permission to be easy and vibrant and tender in a hard grey world.
gratitude. offering. commitment, to each other and our magnificent world.
"the clearest way into the universe is through the forest wilderness."
{john muir}
