Brook in the forest
DAY 1, 2017-01-16 Monday
188 words, 1.5 h
The meandering brook zigzags quietly down through the soil coated in red, a delightful match in texture and color.
Over the stream, though, lie a few misfit trunks scattered and awry. Looking down upon the water, the biggest one serves as a bridge of sorts, but one might want to steer clear of its “spines” while crossing the bridge, a possible traumatizing risk for small animals with soft fur.
It looks like these trunks were standing tall along the water before chopped by lumberman, some having been there for a while, all moss-grown and rotting. It could be lightning. The boulders couldn’t have bulldozed their way into the water without a formidable storm. And the remains of the other boughs are resting on the shoulder of the stream, maimed and defeated.
Funny when I look at the picture—the scene, the tone, the pigment—memories of childhood trips organized by school teachers keep coming back.Kids would love a place like this, the water, the woods, the slope, the branches and the twigs; all you need to put up a decent fight or a treasure-hunting adventure is there.
