The floor is warm browns and rich greens. It smells like life and decay, somehow comforting, holding close all that lives within it. Strong earth. In stillness it’s almost possible to feel the heartbeat of life.
The breeze is cool and joyful, whispering as it dances through the trees and over roots, brushing along the bubbling stream. It coaxes the deer from their listless wanderings and leads bears to a new patch of berries.
There is energy in the air. A hum of trees speaking ancient knowledge, butterflies whispering precious wishes, secrets. The silence is alive with voices. A woodpecker taps out its coded message, thrushes call out warnings of an approaching bobcat. Somewhere, a twig snaps.
Rough bark and moss cloaks the trees, bracelets of old man’s beard hang from their branches and rings of pinecones and blossoms adorn their tips.
Time stands still here. Days pass by, turning from morning to night, and things grow and change, but all is slow. The outside world holds little meaning in a place such as this. Peaceful. All is peaceful.