I arrived back to campus from my hike at Old Rag, went for a swim, and took a relaxing shower. The whole time being spent brainstorming about where it was I wanted to claim as my reflection spot. The gazebo… nah. The intersection between the golf course and “wilderness…” nix. The lake drainage we observed on our first walk around campus.. nay. So I walked. I walked until I realized there was a spot that seemed to have grabbed me before. The o’ so glorious Frisbee golf hole of 11 and 3/4s popped its’ little head above the trees shouting at me to come reflect (3/4s for those Harry Potter fans and the fact that I’m just past where it ends). Here I am, sitting on a 30 foot long half rotted log that’s been here for longer than I know. The joggers and walkers who pass stare puzzlingly back with an expression that begs for an explanation as to why I’m sitting in the middle of the woods pecking away at my keyboard on such a chilly day. Beyond them to my right, a seemingly thin layer of ice covers a small section of the lake. Atop it lies the litter Molly noticed earlier in the day. To my left, the sun creeps through the trees highlighting those stubborn leaves that refused to give in to the season’s mood swings and join the others on the ground. Despite being surrounded by these woods, there lies a lone cinderblock a few feet off the jogging path. How it got there is beyond me, but it provides an interesting contrast to the not too manicured woods.
In all, winter seems to have done its job on this section of the woods. The remnants of Friday’s snowstorm covering select sections of the woods, the crunch of the fallen leaves, and the crying of the trees for a warmer day fill my vision and ears.