A Walk in the Woods

 

A slow-dawning, silver morning, sky thick and low with the promise of rain. The chitter and warble of birds sharp and a little frantic, as they feel the shift in pressure; as they flit from branch to branch, anxious to feed before the first, pinprick raindrops rattle down through the leaves and shiver between the tree trunks. A path lies ahead, a lane carpeted in last year's leaf mold. How easy to imagine your horse coming to a halt, ears swiveling, nostrils flaring. He smells something, off through the trees, a whiff of threat, but he trusts you, and so he steps forward, knees stepping high as he crunches down the lane between your steady, reassuring heels. Down that path, time falls away; you could be a Crusader with shield and lance strapped to your saddle; could be a homesteader, wagon trundling and jolting over roots; could be a girl and her dog, snapping photos. 

The light and the vibrancy of the leaves against it this morning put me immediately in a historical mindset. I mentioned "Crusader" because I thought of Rob, and his merry men, perched in the crooks of trees, bows slung over their backs. I could imagine the whine of an arrow passing close, the whisper in its wake, the thunk of it lodging in a tree trunk, quivering, goose feather fletching dip-dyed red, so its archer could find it later, when he came along, whistling. 

Writers need notebooks in which to jot sudden bursts of inspiration, plot and character notes, and to make a record of the lines that appear suddenly in the mind, perfect and crystal-clear, but which will fade when you say to yourself, I'll remember it later. You won't. You have to put it to paper. But imagery is vital for me as well. Pinterest is a good resource, sure, a good way to create vision boards and build aesthetics - but I'm constantly snapping photos, too. Sometimes with a specific project in mind, but often just for my collection; images that might prove inspiring later. One of my favorite sights is that of the view from below of branches overhead; the dark trunks against the colorful leaves, whether spring green or autumn gold. The gnarled shapes, and serpentine lines. Forest views of all sorts are endlessly inspiring to me. 

A Southern forest isn't like a Northern forest, isn't like a British forest, or the Black Forest, but all are lovely, dark, and deep in their own ways. Just yards away from the barn, and the house, and everything modern, I love the way a forest path can utterly transport me.