Redstone Woods Phenology

So, all things have to come to an end. This year has been a rollercoaster of an experience to say the least. For myself and for my little spot in the woods. While both of us may have come out looking a little worse for wear, I like to think that everything has a silver lining. Whether that is the lessons learned through hardship, perspective gained through humility, or stories told through scars. Both me and the woods grow rich in experience and worn by reality.

This morning I walked out to my normal spot. This time around there is no snow on the ground and the soil is damp but not too muddy. I saw a chipmunk running across a log and heard birds chirping nearby. The trees as well are starting to bud and prepare to spread out their canopies.

Looking back through my previous entries the story of progression is not only told in the content but the structure itself. This places story in many ways mirrors my own. A story of great imperfection but a whole lot of character. I think protecting that is important and is the main reason why my previous posts will remain largely unchanged. It tells a story of inconsistency, periods of flourishing life and optimism to periods of apathy. Something I have been up front with from the start of this story is this place isn’t perfect. Covered in invasive species, a literal dumping ground for discarded lumber, and a spot for partiers who couldn’t care less about the ground they tread on.

This spot, a place of objective impurity I think is a reflection of humanities imperfect nature. How our stories are often written on top of ones that came before it. Forcing this place into a natural utopia of abundance would remove its very character as a place of many flaws.

In my many interactions with this place I have come to a realization. There has been many instances where people have made physical impacts that will leave a lasting impact. I never performed any action that would leave such an impact. But I also never have done anything that would contribute to mending this land. For that reason, I don’t think I am part of that land. I am more of a temporary visitor than a permanent piece.

While some people say you have to aim for the moon to hit the stars. I prefer to be a big oak tree. Rooted to my world and solid in my conviction. Tall and ambitious but never disconnected. A being whose soul tells the stories of many and whose life provides sanctuary for those in need.