Last October (was it really that long ago?), we ran away into the woods for four days of living wild. We set up camp in a living room of tall trees, completely alone except for the noises of animals at night. It rained the entire weekend so we spent a lot of our days sitting under a tarp in front of the travel stove drinking coffee and reading side-by-side. At night we sat by the fire and cooked dinner in a pot, the same pot each night. We toasted marshmellows and drank wine in the dark talking about how good it felt to be there. There in the woods with animal noises in the background, the smell of fire and trees and damp, the amazing colors of fall all around us, and the joy of no technology beeping and whirring to distract us.
When the rain stopped, or slowed, we went out to explore the park we were camped in. We hiked around the mountain that was so quiet it felt like we were the only people on it. We went to the lake and K fished while I read, sat, and daydreamed of a future that included way more of this. The lake was gray and covered in fog, which just makes every experience more mysterious and magical. When you're sitting at the edge of a lake covered in fog making wishes about the future it is possible to believe that they will come true. Because fog over a lake makes any sort of magic seem possible.
It is right about this time of year, every year, when I start to get antsy to get back out into the wild and the wood and the green and the noisy-quiet that is nature. It is time to start planning the camping trips of spring and the hikes of the end of winter. It is time to get back out in the place where we feel most ourselves. And in the meantime, there is always photos to stare at and wood dreams to dream.