LOOKIN' OUT MY BACK DOOR

It is my good fortune, a blessing, to live in a house on the edge of the forest. A few short steps out the door and I'm in the above picture. The branches of the nearest trees practically touch our home, ever beckoning us into the hundred acre wood.

The scenery is constant yet ever changing, from the riot of spring to the lush green of summer to the spectacle that is early autumn that gradually fades to a mellow late October gold. The leaves lying damp on the ground sparkle then like true gold, and they are indeed riches beyond the counting of most. Then as the bare brown of winter opens the forest to more distant lines of sight, the deer are almost always in view.

A snow of awesome character painted all this white last year. Clinging to everything like frosting on a fine cake; "wonderland" the only word to describe it. Rare beauty.

I had a house with a swimming pool once upon a time. All in all I prefer the forest. Both are great for relaxation; the cares of a chaotic day melt, are revealed for the trivia they are, when you're floating in a pool or walking through quiet woods. But the twelve months a year availability of the forest is just unbeatable.

Pity those who can't see this creation. There's an old story about an artist with a guest at his home admiring artwork on the wall.

"This is a wonderful pen and ink!" Exclaims the visitor upon viewing a picture of a forest.

"Oh that?" Answers the artist, "I accidentally knocked over an ink bottle and it spilled across the paper just like that."

"Impossible." said the visitor.

"Exactly." said the artist.

This forest changes through the course of a day too. Cool morning mist evaporates and soon the brightness of mid day reveals astounding details. But to me the finest time of the day is the evening, as the setting sun shines a moving spotlight on ever changing points, highlighting everything in its turn. Spectacular. Glorious. Bravo. Finally night falls and the moon rises large in the sky. The homeward path glows in pale luminescence.

The dog feels right at home here, of course. The smells are enough and varied to keep him busy forever. Every day they are seemingly new to him, and exciting and different and worthy of his attention, and worth a few impatient tugs on the leash.