I love hiking in the winter. I love how things hidden by summer’s growth are revealed. Mosses and lichens shine in the winter sunlight hitting the forest floor. Bird’s nests are visible high in the trees. The life stories of trees are written in skeletal displays of twisting trunks and branches.
Death is on display also. The forest is full of fallen trees. I find them beautiful, their strong bodies feeding the soil and other life forms.
A few days ago I visited a special place in the forest near my home where I have found a consistent strong connection with Arthur. There have been some strong storms since the last time I was there in late September and some more trees came down. I liked standing for a few minutes with the newly-broken trees, honoring their lives and their deaths.