This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,
stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1847 ~
Went on a lovely winterland walk in the woods of wonderment today. Minus one group of rather energetic and super respectful young men and women, the hills were quiet from human sights and sounds, thus leading one to a more nature-filled experience. Snow crunched underfoot in spots, and mud sloshed onto our shoes where it didn't. Evidence of animals was clearly present in the white carpet, the human and pet variety to be sure, but also elk, deer, moose and, perhaps, something more. Trees overhead spat winters' leavings onto our heads, which did nothing but delight the child deep within my being. Winding past the creek meant proximity to animal life was increased, and the reward was the running thump-thump-thump-crash of something deciding it didn't want to be seen. Nature was at its finest with whispering wind making sounds of light caress through the forest's foliage. Although the small creatures of the timberlands were quiet today, and who can blame them with the newly whitened blanket bestowed, evidence of their existence was plentiful. A soothing and peaceful venture which succeeded in its intent of calming the spirit and quieting the soul. To commemorate this excursion, a hide was created in a place that seemed to need one. Your job, should you choose to undertake it, is to come find it. Be advised, in winter your access and terrain issues may vary.