I am devoting this week to the winter forest. One in particular, one that I revisit, upon occasion. The last three months have changed the forest dramatically. Winter has taken her color and smell and has left behind only white snow and bitter cold.
Yet, the woods are alive even in this death-like time. In some ways the forest, stripped down to her bones, reveals more of herself than she would in the summer. Paths are cleared where one could not walk before, and the snow records the activities of her otherwise invisible tenants.
To walk in a forest in winter is to walk into an intimate space, vulnerable and open to curious eyes and wandering feet.