I ventured back up the Mountain I so love, after spending the last couple of weeks away.  The day was warm, almost balmy, a soothing sort of foggy haze blanketed the earth that surrounded me. In an upward drift, heavenly bound, the mists swirled in natures silky caress.  They lifted my spirit the moment my feet entered the forest. Spirit that had been starved, in need of the solitude that only this place can offer.  In this darkness, backlit of green filtered light, subdued by the mists, I saw Nature in all Her goodness and in all Her fury.  Together, a balance, a reminder of our ultimate powerlessness in Her wake.  A breath of fresh air.  I walked in silence, and listened.  The trees spoke with deafening creaks and moans, the survivors of storm to be remembered for ages. Their limbs tattered and broken, the ground littered with the remains of fallen neighbors. Trees too old, or too weak to stand. The mountainside, as I climbed, fought against me, the ground washed out, rocks and trees strewn about.  But what remained was wonderous. Beautiful.  Young trees that still flexed, lived.  Green emeralds in a blanket of fresh snow. Like a jewel. Old trees, weathered but not weak, like the wizened old storyteller, still stood, knarled and bent but strong.  Even the air seemed more pure. Intoxicating.  As I broke the tree line, the very air I found intoxicating,  reminded me with a vengeance, that I too, am powerless in her wake. The winds blew hard and fast, lifting my hair around my face, threatening to lift my very feet off the ground. Standing on the peak, I spread my arms and leaned into wind, eyes closed, feeling what it must feel like to fly. My eyes teared, my skin reddened, but my body and soul were free.  Cleansed by the storm and healed by the same.  It was with lighter steps that I began my descent, and embraced the shelter that this forest gives me.  The wind no longer bit, and mist enveloped me as I slipped back into solitude.  My forest in the clouds.

I went hiking yesterday in search of the signs of spring.  Walking into the forest, the new season was upon me, in all its beginning glory. The ice was receding from the ponds and streams and present were the sounds of running water and singing birds.  The sun was shining, blindingly bright and warming my face, taking me into solitude, into the forest.  As I began my ascent, I became increasingly aware that the spring bliss I had just walked through was still not quite a reality.  Running water turned to solid ice, and the snow had been crushed by recent rainfall, creating a glacier like effect covered with the pine needles that did not survive the storm.  Walking was treacherous, and demanding. Just another reminder of how powerful and tempermental this earth, and the great Mother Nature can be. AS I neared the top, the sun shown itself again, peaking through the trees as if shy of my presence. Teasing my skin with light, a caress of warmth, amidst the icy world from which I was emerging.  And then, open sky, and not a soul to be seen, the mountain top was spectacular. A vision, a combination of both Spring and Winter. Sunny and warm, untill the wind blew and curtly reminded you that Winter intends to stick around another week when it is forced out by the Equinox. Chill bit my face and reddened my cheeks, and in the same moment in time, made me feel as alive as I ever have.