On trails made soggy by days of rain, we set off for a bit of forest bathing. Some call it glory soaking. The Japanese call it shinrin-yoku. In no time, the serenity of our wooded wonderland seeped in to soothe our souls, and that’s the point.
Mike soon discovered bright, healthy green foliage pushing through a carpet of wet brown leaves — wild geraniums tricked into sprouting by our unusually warm winter. We marveled at each tender new leaf's pink veins. Fungi flourished on many a rotting log, and we leaned in close to admire its varied shapes and colors.
Turning onto Old Oak Trail, a faint scuffle brought us to an abrupt halt. A startled deer darted forward, slipping easily between trees before suddenly stopping, unafraid, to stare back at us with those soft brown eyes I love. We made our way ever so slowly to the heavy bench without scaring off our trusting new friend; and from there, we watched as another came into view. When the two moved on together, we stayed on the bench, bathing in the beauty of our patch of pretty forest, awed by the magical mingling of sunshine and shadows, touched by the gift of time spent together. All is grace.
