I haven’t been getting out in the woods as much as I would like recently.  Yet, whenever I do, I am reminded why I value them so much.  It is there that I can regain some sense of center, where internal conflict drops away.

Following a sharp lesson in why politics and pleasure should never enter the same room, I was glad to take half an hour and go for a quick scramble down a portion of the south line.  The snow is still deep in places and beneath it the complex of streams, springs, and soggy ground are thawing.  Where there are true seeps or springs, the water is running and the mosses are full of life.  Some of the waxy evergreens, such as partridge berry and laurel, are clearly waking up as well, no longer brittle or easily torn.  Plenty of deer tracks of course; but no sign of Mama Bear this year.  I did feel bad about spooking a dozen plus ducks off the pond, I didn’t see them there when I came up over the western edge of the dam.  They were sheltering in the open water of the back cave and the spring.  Probably migrating.

It is rugged terrain in the micro-sense that southern New England specializes in.  You aren’t climbing mountains around here.  It is just loose rocks, soggy ground, trees, and lots of underbrush to duck through.  Up down  around and mind that widow-maker.  I can’t imagine how I will manage to shepherd a Land Trust walk along it!  It should be fun though.