The Clearing

I stood in the center of the clearing, deep in the forest. This was my place, a place where only the creatures of nature and I knew about. It lay a short walk from my back door through the woods. The trick was crossing the stream back there. There was a log you could cross, but it was hidden in a cove that was most likely created by beavers. To either side of the cavern was a branch and bramble wall, no way to forge over it. but if you looked real close you would find a small section of branches tied together with makeshift tree bark rope.

Once pulled aside you could crawl under the catch weed into a small space with the large timber to cross over the water. The space here was not mine, and I knew it. It was modified so I could pass, but there was always a sense of eyes upon you. I never felt in danger, but I knew that I was only welcome as a passer by and not invited to stay for any length of time.

Beyond the crossing there were a few love paths well trodden in the forest floor. They seemed ancient and terribly unkempt. I had once spent some time trying to map them out, but quickly became bored with the prospect of where they led when I had found the clearing.

I had affectionately come to call it the glade. It was about forty paces in diameter and near perfectly round. The edges seemed to understand that they needed to maintain the circle. The foliage was emerald green, not a section of earth could be seen, thick and lush. A short grass about ankle high grew all over. It was as if it had decided that it was at the perfect height and stopped.

The trees encircling the space almost formed a perfect privacy fence. From everywhere outside of the clearing one would have no idea it existed. It was as if nature herself decided that this place was to be kept hidden from most, I would say all, but I had been given the privilege of locating the space.

In the summer I could lay in the open space for hours and just think about the universe around me. It was quite an inspiring place to be. Light breezes would light over the trees and swoop down into the center and keep one at the perfect temperature, also creating a soothing sound, a music all it’s own, in your ears.

Sometimes a squirrel would play along the edge of the clearing searching for supplies for the upcoming winter, mostly they kept to themselves, but if I brought snacks with me, they were certainly happy to share. Sometimes they would dance along the edge of the green, a complex series of movements around each other, elegant and otherworldly I could watch their movements losing complete track of time. When the shade would hit the center of the patch I knew it was time to head home.

-V-