It’s a magical place, the forest.
Unearthly quiet, shadows deep, filtered sunlight, the faint sound of the river the only disturbance of the silence, and that not at all distracting but rather serving as an orchestral interlude, a soft, pleasant melody, accompanying you on your explorations.
Your breathing is not labored given you’re going so slow, lost in wonder, thrilled with the adventure, back where you belong.
Western Trilliums – sometimes called “wake robbins” because they are heralds of the spring – are everywhere among the moss covered decaying leaves and logs.
These beautiful “quintessential forest denizens” do not grow together. Nature places them singly, here and there, several feet apart, maybe to entice those who notice them to take yet another picture, this one more beautiful than the last.
And then, there they were.
Two of them. Just two. Side-by-side, stalks intertwined, leaves like arms wrapped round the other, faces upturned as if so happy to be alive.
Together.
Together, as they age, their petals will turn pink, maybe even burgundy.
And then, first one, then the other, they will disappear.
MAGIC happens.
Great eye, photo.