Life continues. Just as 2019 gave birth to Covid-19, so does spring burst with new life. The woods adjacent to my home hold great wisdom – one just has to pay attention to its cycles. There are days when I move quickly past the trees, demanding my muscles move in harmony with my breath. But there are times when I meander slowly and try to understand what the plants and birds whisper in my ears.
My path is lined with trillium warmed by the early spring sun. Though its bloom lasts only a short while, it marks the change of seasons. Its flower is extremely fragile yet the plant provides food. At maturity the base and core of the ovary turns soft and spongy, producing small fruits. Ants take them to their nest where they eat the fruit and discard the seeds in their “garbage,” where they germinate, providing beauty for those passing by.
I heard the persistent tat, tat tat sounds of a pileated woodpecker’s drumming, and noticed an old snag he most likely perches on when people aren’t around. Years ago tiny holes dotted the trunk when I hiked past. Today, they have expanded into small caverns. Though it the tree appears dead, nature’s supermarket has full shelves and continues to nurture its patrons.
Feeding Young 
Good Eating
An old lady holding her head watched me as I turned a bend and continued up the path. She warned me to be careful so as not to fall. Though a downed tree made a convenient bridge to shorten my walk, I heeded her advice and took the long way round.
Old Lady 
Bridge over Creek
I miss the children I befriended, American citizens from an Etheopian and Samali immigrant family. Wednesday mornings were my day to take the four year old on trips to the library and river to feed ducks. I passed this wonderful tree and was sad knowing that she and her older sister would enjoy nature’s play structure. Now they have to wait until it is safe to go out.
There is much death in the woods, but that is not bad. As trees age and fall, slowly returning to soil, they nurture new life. New trees grow from their bellies and mushrooms flourish on their bark.
Fungus 
Nursery
Even young and strong varieties have symbiotic relationships allowing vegetation to share its vitality, though invasive species like English Ivy, often smother the life force from its limbs.
English Ivy 
Ferns
I like it all – the deep earthy smells, the sounds of song sparrows drowned by loud cackling crows, and the frogs jumping in the creek at the bottom of the hill. Nature can show itself to be lovely and gentle but also as rough and brutal. I am driven to seek out beauty that propels life forward but understand that the dark side is also a part of the cycle.
Hildy, this is a wonderful piece and, I suspect, just what so many of us need in these days of quiet, aloneness, and suppressed fear. No need to elaborate on the bad. Just a lifeline back to nature. Thank you for introducing us to your backyard woods and it’s many inhabitants.
Here is an amusing story from my area, an older housing district of San Diego. Spring is, of course, a season of birth. And we’re getting lots of small fuzzy packages popping up in yards (including one in our kitchen–a gift from the cat.) Problem is, to city dwellers all fuzzy little things look about the same. So we have a constant debate: What is this? Looks like a mole. No, maybe a gopher. Or how about a baby possum? Let’s drive it down to the Humane Society and see what they say. All done with the best of intentions. Meanwhile, the cat just asks, Is it edible? Looks like it.