Wind in the trees

Sitting here under a holly tree at the nature preserve, listening to the wind blowing in the tops of still-winter bare trees in this stretch of forest near the cypress swamp. The swamp maples are budding and there is Spring in the air, but Winter in the cold wind's embrace as I walked past what were once flourishing rice fields centuries ago in this part of the South Carolina lowcountry. The wind blows strong and cold in the huge expanse of marsh and dikes I just traversed. It was so nice to feel the bracing cold air, to look up into the blue skies, and to feel close to the Earth on this early March Sunday morning.

I just heard a train whistle in the distance. Birds are chirping and peeping in a nearby tree. The trail is taking me through upland maritime forest now, on slightly higher ground than the marshes and swamp bottoms filled with cypress trees. This upland forest contains oaks, hollies, sweet gum and a few hickories and oak chestnuts.

I feel the familiar pull of Nature and the beckoning call to enter into both the solitude that resides here and companionship with the living things of the Earth where the cycles and rhythms of land and seasons speak to me so personally and eloquently.

The only sounds now are the wind rustling the trees and squirrels stirring up leaves on the forst floor. Many of the oaks in these forests retain their canopies until this time of year, when, as with the live oaks, they shed their leaves at last in preparation for the new growth of Spring.

How I need and treasure these restorative woods and this wind that sings in the trees and shuts out the sounds of civilization in the distance.

(Written March 4)