I walked through a painting today…or it felt like it anyway. Spring is one of my favorite seasons because of the greens. There are so many shades; too many to name. Hues and tints begin at the foot of the mountain and work their way up, and it’s not planting time until the trees are full all the way to the crest.

Today I went for a walk through the woods. Because of the recent rains, the floor of the forest was alive. A mossy carpet was the foundation green. On top of the rug, ferns unfurled and reached for the sun. Rays of light filtered down through the canopy above as if they were spotlights for the fern show. Every surface of the ground was covered. Underbrush took a supporting role to the ferns and added more dimension. Layers of emerald, olive, lime, avocado, jade, on and on. Light. Dark. In between. Like a Monet forest with light bouncing around from plant to plant. This forest was impressionism at its heart.

Hanging over the trail, rhododendrons spread their confetti and my feet followed the pink and white path of petals. I walked through this green tunnel as if I was walking in a framed work. The trees arms created a shelter overhead and provided dappled shade as the cool morning began to heat up. It seemed a time warp to me. A portal to rest. To calm. To peace.

The river and the birds sang the soundtrack of this meditative walk. Their harmonies blended from years of singing together. The waterfall rumble over the rocks grounded the song. Between the sights and sounds my footsteps added some rhythm, speeding up or slowing down as needed. Deep breaths of cool morning air increased energy to my walking legs.

On my way out, I looked down and found a patch of heart leaves. Love notes.