Daily Write: Alone in the Woods

Being alone is my favorite way to experience the woods. Gone are the distractions of conversation with people, or keeping track of where the dog's disappeared off to. Gone is the self-consciousness related to strenuous exercise in the presence of others; no need to care that anybody's hearing my labored breathing, or seeing that I've sweated through my shirt. Gone is the requirement to keep pace with a companion; nobody's there to go too fast, or too slow, both of which can be ruinous to what would otherwise be a good trek. My stride is the perfect speed, and I can stop when I want, for as long as I want, without feeling like a bother or an imposition. I can drink all the water, and not share my snacks. I can spend 10 minutes trying to get the perfect photograph of a happy group of Tiger lillies in a captivatingly magical meadow -- these meadows, they appear around corners when you least expect them, tucked secretively into shadowed forest -- or sunlight filtering through the yellow-green leaves of the birch trees, highlighting papery white bark as it sloughs off of their trunks. I can spread my arms wide and spin around in wonderment when I pop out of a shrubby trail above tree line, greeted by a stupefying vista that makes me just grin dumbly, lost for words, and without the desire to say anything to anyone anyway.