Mindful of God’s presence in the beauty of the Maine wood

There is a pine and birch wood behind my parent’s house. A path crosses the back corner of their lot and traverses along a brook and bog. I’m sure it was once a logging road, but now parts have little trees growing in the middle. The wood is reclaiming portions of the trail and in a few years only the keenest eye will spot glimpses of the leaf filled ruts. In other parts, the trail looks new thanks to 4 wheelers and snowmobiles. Soon after leaving my parent’s lot, the trail passes by a boggy pond. Beavers once had a house here and you can still see old tree trunks gnawed to a pencil point. But now the pond is merely a few deep pools with grass growing in odd places. Ice forms around the edges but much to thin for my tempted foot.  After the pond, the trail moves up and on through birches and open woods. It passes through a thick stand of tall pine trees and back again to birch, popular, and maple trees.

I love walking this trail. There are houses near by and some now visible as they encroach on “my” trail. And yet, I can lose myself in the quietness of the wood. Squirrels chatter, small birds chirp, a few old oak leaves, still unwilling to fall to the ground, rustle in the wind. With any luck, a little snow will let me see the tracks of deer, rabbits, a lone dog, a skunk.

Walking this trail feeds my soul and helps me to see that God has made a beautiful world. It stirs the imagination in many ways. I must remember to find ways to see this beauty in Philadelphia.