Golden

It was a rainy, gray day today in the western part of Georgia, which meant moving about 45 minutes to my new campground in the drizzle and damp. Not my favorite weather, for sure, especially when towing my Alto. And especially when I hadn’t slept well last night.

I hitched up slowly, during a break in the rain, getting almost all the way to the new spot without more than a steady mist. My luck held till I got checked in and unhitched and then the skies opened once again. I fell asleep to the sound of rain on my rooftop.

After I woke up, I felt sluggish and not at all sure I wanted to walk around in this dreary weather. I forced myself put on my shoes and get myself out the door. Right across from my site was a sign “hiking trail,” which seemed like a good omen. And about 50 feet down that trail, the magic started.

The cloud cover had thinned out enough to to let some light through and the beech trees were ready for it. Unlike most other deciduous trees, beeches hold onto their leaves all winter, changing from green to gold to a very pale brown. In just the right light, those light-colored leaves can make an otherwise dark forest seem magical.

At every turn of the trail, there were beech trees, near and far, as if to say, “go on, keep walking, we’ll make it worth your while.”

I ended up walking a half hour, letting my delight in the beeches lead me onward and then back home again. I felt a bit sorry for those other campers, huddled inside their RVs, watching their TVs, and missing out the real show out here in the forest.

It seemed a mere toss-up whether she said, ‘I love you,” or whether she said, ‘I love the beech-trees,’ or only ‘I love–I love.

Virginia Woolf, (Night and Day)