Most of Saturday’s snowfall was nothing but a pleasant memory in the cold woods yesterday, but hard-to-see ice patches remained a danger. Nonetheless, walking alone in the sun-dappled woods is, for me, a good way to let go of troubling thoughts about what’s going on elsewhere.
Walking on wooded paths seems to emancipate me from life’s slavery to time. I don’t worry about such things as “wasting” a full five minutes just watching a diligent downy woodpecker work a birch tree the way an IRS agent would examine the return of a known tax evader.
(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 7, 2023.)