We have been busy as bees here, but thankfully, November arrives with it's own quiet rhythm offering us balance and a little time to breathe, before we are swept along into the next mad rush. The hiking trails near my house are now carpeted with gold. The ancient tree trunks are flocked with damp, velvety moss, some of them sprouting gigantic mushrooms over our heads. (This one was the size of a dinner plate!) I love the woods. There's a hushed silence that follows at our heels as we walk along. Occasionally, a small creature will shuffle through the leaves, ducking for cover at our approach. We stop to look, but never do see anything in the dense underbrush.
A woodland jay calls out an alarm as it sweeps from tree to tree, watching us, until we are out of it's range. We take the old horse trail that winds deep into the mountainside wilderness. A haze of shimmering light filters down through the tall, lacy canopy, sheltering our path. Overhead, dark clouds coast silently and then part momentarily, allowing a single golden ray of sunshine to illuminate a small patch ahead.
It's magical--a sliver of heaven, I say. My camera captures the moment. Lovely.
