“Spring at her height on a morn at prime, Sails that laugh from a flying squall, Pomp of harmony, rapture of rhyme – Youth is a sign of them, one and all.” ~ Ballade of Youth and Age, W.E. Henley
Give a boy a boy-sized hill and he cannot resist the climb. Gradual trail inclines or rises in the land encourage a four-year-old’s trudge but given the opportunity to scramble up a proportionately sized obstacle over which to declare himself the ruler, energy abounds. We didn’t challenge his claim over the palette of surrounding brown – the carpet of spent leaves and varieties of wind stripped trees yet to reawaken – instead we decorated his kingdom.
Three weeks into spring, the woods are doing their best to deal with the stubborn temperatures and some buds are beginning to stretch open but materials for our Goldworthy’s still consist mostly of sticks and downed trees. The specific woods we were hiking in for this last outing seemed particularly affected by winter as the fallen trees littered throughout gave the woods a post battle appearance.
John may have scouted out this project location but our group in general has been drawn to the knotted roots balls of overturned trees for the past few outings. There is something really appealing about the roots being so entrenched deep into the rich soil, that when the tree falls, the hearty clumps of earth brought up in the roots reveal the land that has housed the tree undisturbed through centuries of growth. So we lined the roots with branches as if to offer some protection from the wind which the tips haven’t felt in generations, and dashed on some leafy star bursts to honor the leaves that won’t come this year on this fallen tree, and also for a dash of color in the color-starved woods.
Although humans are nature alike seem to still be trudging through the last remnants of winter, we see the buds and can smell the burst of life to come and are reminded by those already in the spring of their lives to see the land and get climbing.