I Was Born In The Middle Of A Storm You Won't Find Me Under The Sun My Feet Are Chaos I Belong To The

All forests have their own personality. I don't just mean the obvious differences, like how an English woodland is different from a Central American rain forest, or comparing tracts of West Coast redwoods to the saguaro forests of the American Southwest... they each have their own gossip, their own sound, their own rustling whispers and smells. A voice speaks up when you enter their acres that can't be mistaken for one you'd hear anyplace else, a voice true to those particular trees, individual rather than of their species.

Charles de Lint, The Onion Girl

When much in the Woods as a little girl, I was told that the Snake would bite me, that I might pick a poisonous flower, or Goblins kidnap me, but I went along and met no one but Angels

Emily Dickinson, from a letter to T. W. Higginson, August 1862

It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

But when fall comes, kicking summer out on its treacherous ass as it always does one day sometime after the midpoint of September, it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed. It settles in the way an old friend will settle into your favorite chair and take out his pipe and light it and then fill the afternoon with stories of places he has been and things he has done since last he saw you 

Let sleeping wolves lie

What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.

Minus 24 degrees! It is not that I do not like winter; I love how the snow creates a cold, sheltering bed for the flowers and transforms familiar lands into an unknown world. I admire the fragile beauty of snowflakes and ice crystals…each one unique. I try to follow Mother Earth´s advice that this is a time of silence, profundity and introspection. But to be honest, when it is really cold I appreciate a nice tea, some candles and prefer to observe the winter wonderland from inside my cozy home. 

Last night I decided to brave the cold and go out early in the morning to watch the sunrise. Well, the sunrise was hidden behind dense fog, but the scenery still was incredibly beautiful. I love the light in the early mornings, it somehow is a time between time and this morning it was even more special, I think because of the icy temperatures. The air was fresh and pure and the colours seemed to shine from the inside…sometimes it is difficult to find suitable words to honor the beauty of Nature. 

What we are doing to the forests of the world is but a mirror reflection of what we are doing to ourselves and to one another.

Chris Maser, Forest Primeval

The words with which a child’s heart is poisoned, whether through malice or through ignorance, remain branded in his memory, and sooner or later they burn his soul.

Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Shadow of the Wind

Each day is born with a sunrise and ends in a sunset, the same way we open our eyes to see the light, and close them to hear the dark. You have no control over how your story begins or ends. But by now, you should know that all things have an ending. Every spark returns to darkness. Every sound returns to silence. And every flower returns to sleep with the earth. The journey of the sun and moon is predictable. But yours, is your ultimate ART.