There are big wooden bones here, strewn about and about, broken stumps and subtle nuances of color. Some may call this winter drab, but the scatters of trees and fruiting bodies of fungus, mossy cushions, ferns and the green leaves of the honeysuckle vine tell us that winter does not necessarily mean the death of things. Mycelia secretly spread beneath layers of oak, tulip poplar and hickory leaves creating a duff that feels like a trampoline beneath the foot. Redheaded woodpeckers trip a beat that echoes concentric rings, scenting and saturating the forest with native rhythms as larva and sleeping beetles are sucked up and ground down by gizzard: food for forest creatures. Yes, it comes round again. Spring veiled by the subtle browns, grays, pastel greens of winter, and the sky like blue crystals, a stage for swift cirrus clouds racing by…
