Field and Forest

Cover image © Brian Michael Barbeito

A walk through flaxen fields and woodland paths, where going slowly is the whole point.

Prose and photographs by Brian Michael Barbeito

The winds then, and flaxen fields that appeared in parts a bit golden. A porcupine hides in there, and one in the perimeter at the other side. Light owl I’ve seen up the hill, certainly sagacious, and the mysterious valley on one side. Looks a bit unwelcoming in that valley. People don’t go there. But it’s as if a hint of autumn has arrived in these breezes,- Autumn, more tolerable and welcoming than the too hot summer or often difficult cold winter.

Some evergreens were planted in the middle and seemed to thrive and grow fast. Nice. Green against the blue sky and beige grounds. Kind. Loving. Accepting that place feels. Joyous at times. Little hills in places. The buttercups impossibly bright yellow grew down the way in a muddy part (my shoes and socks so muddied and full of water that day for going in there to see and take flower pictures,- but looking back,- it was worth it) and there was some Chaga mushroom on trees, a growth on the birches that not only made a nice tea, but is said to have medicinal value.

It was a good place to walk. Appearing first plain, it had all kinds of interesting shrubs and wildflowers, vines, and berries. Wild but not too wild. A pretty safe place. It was sort of divided down there into three long rectangles so you could walk one, two, or three. And if you really wanted you could explore the forest to the side, which had several paths also. Old stones. The sounds of birds. Something running in the distance. Maybe it’s only a squirrel or chipmunk. Moss on stone and old trees especially trees fallen. Several different types of mushrooms. Small and large.

Yes, the character of old trees and the play of light and shadow, shape, and no shape, in the woodlands. Then enter again the field. You can see far. Walk. Go medium paced. Why rush? Why run? You will miss much. Just wander but with the vague goal of going back to the entrance. This is a balance between being directionless and lost, and focused and with purpose. Balance. Like the Tao. Something like that. Be open and accepting, observant and respectfully interested. Be outdoors. And a creative. Appreciate. Maybe one day they will take it away. Or it will be there but for some currently unknown reason you won’t be able to visit. Photos of the landscape. Ideas for prose poems or short stories. A certain amount of healing or balance, fresh air, and steps.