I really have done more than walk in the woods this winter. But maybe it’s been the most interesting or at least inspiring thing. I so love walking around Mosquito Head and through the wooded, mossed center of the headland. And even though I’ve been here countless times (the dogs would have us traverse this route daily at least, though I’ve not always lived up to their expectations) what is so familiar is also always different. Not new, just different in terms of what I see, what catches my eye.
On a foggy day last week it was the big picture, the landscape.
Dogs turning for a treat at one of the ritualized feeding stations along the route.
Land giving way to rocks and water.
The notion of a distant horizon.
And then there are the bright days, like yesterday, when I seem to focus on details.
Roots, rocks, lichen and moss.
A buoy that has been bouncing around on shore for months.
Another buoy that has been hanging in a tree for just as long.
Wrecked traps tangled in branches.
Same place, different experience. Each time.
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