Woodland trails

When Parapluie, Fisherman, Farm Boss, and I go hiking, the guys blaze the trail-- so to speak. To be exact, they just keep walking and maybe sometimes eventually realize Parapluie and I are not always there.

She and I like to stop, take notice of the intense color of a wildflower, watch a bird soar as we try to decide what it is, find joy in the way a stream turns, the shadows formed by the trees overhead as the sunshine barely reaches the valley floor. She will also sketch. I could do a blog just of photos of Parapluie sketching or painting from years ago to recent week-ends-- if I could find all the photos.

Currently, for me, a woodland trail is not so much about sketching as about taking a photograph, moving until the lighting is right, deciding what to put in focus, checking the polarizing lens to be sure it's contributing to the composition, and wondering how it will all look when I see it enlarged.

I always enjoy seeing her sketches and the resultant paintings. I like how she finds the soul of a place, not just its individual elements. (You might check out Parapluie's blog Umbrella Painting Journal for her latest plein air paintings. This is one she created from one of our recent hikes-- Plunkett Creek Loop.)

Out of hundreds of photos from any such hike, I delete many, then select a few I hope will capture what her paintings do-- the spirit of the place, one photo that lets you know what it was like to be there. There are always too many from which to choose-- one of the big perks to shooting with a digital camera. Each shows something different but which does it best?

Should it be the moment standing on a ridge looking out across the hills toward the ocean. The clouds gathering there might be right along the beach as the ocean is only about thirty miles west as the crow flies.

It might even be visible if that last hill wasn't in the way. We could walk to the Pacific, but it'd take awhile as from here to there are no trails or any roads.What are a few rivers to swim and many creeks to wade? Might take a few days... maybe.

Or how about the feeling of walking under a seemingly primeval forest canopy, a place man hasn't touched. Well he must have since there are trails. When using the imagination such details aren't important.

This small stream's water is headed for the ocean but it will take awhile to get there. It has other streams to join, then rivers. They meander, seeming sometimes to be going the wrong direction.

I dip my fingers in the water knowing it will someday reach the ocean even if some must evaporate, turn into clouds, fall as rain, and once again join a stream. It will get there. A stream is very much a metaphor for life.

Sometimes, in a deep forest, all you hear are your own footsteps on the soft dirt trail, the brook nearby, and the sound of your breathing. Around each bend there could be a new wildflower, a fawn and doe, or will it be a bear? Life takes on enhanced intensity when walking woodland trails.