I've been playing out in the woods this week. Its like when as a child my mother would be sick of us kids being inside and would lock us out of the house saying, " There's the water spicket, don't come back in until I call you for supper or one of you is bleeding." We'd go spend hours in the forest, making forts, playing in the creek, and comfortably living in our make-believe world. 'Cept this time I'm all grown up and Harley and I couldn't have been happier with our self-imposed marching orders.
The two of us have covered just about every holler and ridge between my house, Clark's Creek Rd and Broadstone Rd-- just below Daisy Ridge. I was scared only once when I saw a tree with obvious bear claws (I think) markings high upon it.
I found delightful human objects in the woods. I found old pails, jars, pottery shards. My favorite find was an old cabin and outhouse. But like a good girl scout, I took photos and left well enough alone...
Today, I stay at home and clean (even the baseboards) but I would rather be outside playing in the woods. If I get my house tidy I may make an album of my little adventure.