On our way back, we veered off to a path that runs along the edges of our fields and borders the creek and woods. We hopped over the creek and made our way up to our upper-most field and to the woods that run along side it.
I thought I knew every part of our farm -- from hiking, bird watching, tree planting, and working to clear the ever-present honeysuckle. Perhaps it was the snowy morning, or the low light; perhaps it was the even quieter than usual air; or maybe it was that the briars and weeds were bent low with heavy snow, or perhaps the myriad of animal tracks were confusing me; but I did not know these woods.
My perspective seems to have shifted. Everything looked different. Softer. More lovely.
On our way back, we came to an opening in the trees from which I could glimpse our house. Even it looked different, tucked into the trees. More cottage like. More homey. More welcoming.
This morning our woods really were lovely, dark and deep – especially as they were filled up with snow.