The woods felt exactly like late March today. Damp and mild, the air was thick with mist in some spots. Rocks and fallen logs were slick and the moss and ferns were still vibrant green. The creeks and streams were high, full of run off from all of the rain we have been getting lately.
I walked through the marsh, and up through the woods and rocks, to the top of the rocky hill that overlooks the marsh. I saw plenty of evidence of animal activity, paths through the leaves, and places where logs had been rubbed bar and branches broken.
As I made my way back down the hillside, I could hear the water from the stream rushing. I came to it and made my way along it, moving toward the first beaver pond. The beaver pond is not a pond any more, since the dam is no longer there. It`s a small valley, surrounded on all sides by steep high banks with a stream running through it.
It`s quiet here and one of my favourite places to visit - probably the place I escape to most. As I walked back out through the trees and across the fields the fog came in heavier. I could feel water droplets settling on my eyelashes. I needed the walk today - a quiet time before the flurry of activity and excitement that Christmas brings.
