Picnic in the woods

Working in the retail business, weekends off are few and far between. I’ve taken to requesting a weekend day here and there just to be able to see my husband. Some requests are granted, some denied.

My husband surprised me recently on a Sunday off with a picnic in the woods by the river. With spring being so late, it was like walking in a black and white film, sometimes with sepia filters. Color was void. Even the sky was gray, but it was wonderful. We found a log to use as a bench near a small creek running into the river where we could watch the reflection of the trees ripple as the breeze made the surface breathe.

The quiet calm was interrupted by a bicycle or two on the tar path about 100 yards away. Then a bird, or the wind whispering through the tree tops. The undergrowth was just a thought under the leaves covering the ground, creating the perfect environment for trekking through the woods, investigating things we observed while eating our lunch.

The woods were full of interesting details, many of the decomposition process. White shelf mushrooms forming on fallen trees were common.

 

 

We also saw a few duck couples, some with their white bottoms pointing to the sky as they grazed in a small pond. The politics of spring were visible as one male chased another away from the females, though it was obvious they had already picked their female partners.

Looking at the details was kind of like playing Where’s Waldo, challenging me to use my imagination and look beyond the structure.

 

 

A ghostly presence surrounded some of the bark stripped trees.

 

 

A spot of color dotted this rock. Tell me what you see.

It was a wonderful picnic, ending with us picking up garbage people had deposited throughout our journey and tucking my camera under my shirt to protect it from the rain.