I love the sound of wood creaking. The squeaking and bowing each time you take a step. I am not, however, a fan of hearing the wood moan as I walk beneath large ancient trunks, never meant to sway, as they rock back and forth among the winds above me.

I entered this forest with the intention of rest. It was anything but. Sometimes the trees are meant to remind me how small I am, and check my ego.

The oaks, like the school bully, stick out their trunks in the hopes of tripping me. The rocks, wet and slippery, wish to level me to the ground. And just as I thought I could sit in a pile of dried leaves and relax, the poison ivy hiding beneath sent me out with a warning.

Sometimes we are meant to face hardship. It teaches us something. It helps us grow. If we are willing to stop and take the lesson.

Nature and I have a relationship like any mother and child, one where she keeps me in line and nurtures me along my journey. Of course, I’ll consider the lesson after washing in calamine.