Five Miles of Gratitude in a Coastal Rain Forest in the Pacific Northwest

 

Blue sky. Crimson leaves. Yellow leaves. Crunchy leaves. Prickly leaves. Giant leaves. Tiny leaves. Beard moss. Carpet moss. Calm buddies to walk with. Silence. Singing birds. Old trees, Young trees. Leafy trees. Needly trees. Furry trees. Straight trees. Bendy trees. Trees that grow out of stumps. Trees with lots of lumpy lumps. Smooth trees. Rough trees. The yellow Labrador who smiles. The Dad who keeps hugging his teenage daughter. The lady whose back won't let her stand up straight, but jogs anyways. The burly, serious looking man whose running companions are three Chihuahuas in matching pink collars. A laughing chipmunk. The strangers who smile with their eyes and say hello. A sun bright enough to peek through the forest canopy. A forest floor covered in soft, green moss. Fresh air. Clean air. Oxygen-rich air. Endorphins. A cluster of mushrooms growing from a stump. The strength of a tree. The grounding energy of a tree. A smooth boulder to rest on. The smell of pine needles. The jolly man who looks like Santa Claus. A fern forest. Peace.