A little exploration into the woods today. We saw no one, and sat still listening to the quirky cadence of frog call. I sometimes wonder if southern hemisphere frogs have more exuberance in their song, they wait at times, so very very long for rain, that you can easily imagine they might undertake weeks of silent rehearsals in anticipation of finally singing the rain in.
World Environment Day today. Every day should be world environment day. Nature is nurture. Wild time is all time.
Because Fiona Macleod always says it with more poetic beauty that I can dream of:
“The forest is alive in its divine youth. Every bough is a vast plume of joy: on every branch a sunray falls, or a thrush sways in song, or the gauzy ephemeridæ dance in rising and falling aerial cones. The wind moves with the feet of a fawn, with the wings of a dove, with the passing breath of the white owl at dusk. There is not a spot where is neither fragrance nor beauty nor life…It is the still ecstasy of Nature, wherein every spray, every blade of grass, every spire of reed, every intricacy of twig, is clad with radiance, and myriad form is renewed in continual change as though in the passionate delight of the white Artificer. It is beauty so great and complex that the imagination is stilled into an aching hush. There is the same trouble in the soul as before the starry hosts of a winter night.”(Fiona Macleod – Where the forest murmurs)