Forests & Woodlands
What is the difference between a forest and a woodland? In this case it seems that size really does matter…
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Blog posts tagged in woods
Really, those woods saved my life.
Fourteen is hard. When home and school grew too much to bear, I turned to the woods. I'd walk the paths there, and the storm within would still. And when I left the woods I knew that, no, to live was better.
At first the woods were mine and I walked them fearlessly, but only by day. By night they belonged to themselves, and I feared to go there. To carry a light would have been a profanation, and I feared to walk in the dark.
But then I learned what still can't help but seem a metaphor.
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Growing up in the suburbs has its advantages, access to the wild being one of them. I was back in western PA recently visiting fam -
When my family moved back to Richmond in '72 there were woods in back of the house. I was 13 at the time and the woods were great
…The spirit of adventure 
runs through my veins
with the rich color
of crushed raspberry
May it always run so free
may it be blessed
and may I be reminded
of the courage and love
shown in small, wild adventures.
June brings out the hunter in me. The mission: wild raspberries.* A friend once laughed to hear me describe picking raspberries as a "holy task," but it is. A task earthy, embodied, mundane, and miraculous at once.
Two of June's treasures each year for me are the roses and the raspberries. This week, I sweated and struggled and was scratched and stung, but I returned home once again with my bounty.
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Our blackberries will ripen next month! I look forward to them also. -
Lovely - in my part of the world it is blackberry brambles - there is something so precious about fruit gathered at a bit of a cos
Bone wind has returned 
mother of winter’s chill
sweeping through bare branches
and rattling dusty leaves.
The remnants of summer
have completely faded
and the doorway to the new year
has cracked open.
With the skeletal swirl of frost and freeze
I see the hint
of new things
waiting to burst from behind the door.
Hibernating now perhaps
hunkered down to wait it out
resting, biding time, percolating
nestled in darkness
but, oh so ready, to grow.
It is only on the surface
that the world prepares to take a long nap
underneath the crust
change boils
life bubbles
new ideas gestate
and time crowns anew
with the promise and potential of birth
held in cupped hands.
The flame of fresh ideas flickers
and catches
until the blaze of possibility
envelopes the cold.
