I awoke today to a glorious November morning, the kind of mid-autumn day one presumably only reads about. The cloudless cerulean sky held much promise and it did not disappoint. I had consulted maps of the immediate area to which I had recently moved. These maps told of one Waller Mill Park, which encompassed a small reservoir. As I traversed the moderately trafficked country road that led to the park, I espied what appeared to be a trail in the adjacent wood.

On closer inspection, this indeed turned out to be a trail, albeit one paved with asphalt but after I entered the forest, stepped over a log or two and was at last free from the encroaching traffic, I felt immediately free of the implicit  harassment. This was a country road so the traffic was, if not pressing at least a challenging annoyance. So liberated, I traipsed along the pavement, encountered exactly one bicyclist and one jogger (I was relatively alone) and enjoyed the quietude of the arbor-dressed corridor.

At last, I came to the reservoir, replete with boat docks, picnic areas and adjacent playgrounds. This was a pleasantly appointed area, ideal for small family or community outings. I continued through, following trail signs until I encountered one Bayberry Trail. This sounded inviting enough so I turned on to it. I was not disappointed. I have been so long without access to quiet wooded areas that this one caught me unaware.

The autumnal beauty of the tranquil forest setting reignited a long dormant love affair with the woods. The remnants of rust- umber- and ochre-colored leaves clung wearily to the mid-autumn trees. The surrounding waters glinted silver and blue in the mid-morning sunlight. I worked my way along the trail that was not well marked. In fact, under the fall of leaves, it was barely discernible, visible only by the path through the contiguous trees.

It was an experience I had missed: sunlight dappled through the muted wood; the smell and feel of the fecund earth under my feet; the rustle of fallen leaves crushed beneath my boot; and the gleam of the warm sun sparkling through the clarity of blue skies. For me, to find such an idyll at close proximity was the proverbial godsend.

True, this was not remotely akin to what I experienced in the San Francisco Bay Area but then, what is? For the moment, this would have to do and surprisingly it did. Walking in the hushed woods, wherever one may be, always affords something of the same tranquility. In this locale, however, the crispness of the late season air, the light proffered by the acute angle of incidence that prevails this time of year and the wooded scent of the decayed leaves and earth combined to provide an ambience of forest stillness unmatched in my more recent forays.

Eventually, presumably I will relocate closer to the shore. Perhaps then, with the sea at hand or at least at a closer propinquity, I will be able to recapture my lost serenity, regain a semblance of my mislaid peace of mind. For the time being, experiences such as this morning’s will go a long way toward assuaging my need for nature’s pervasive tranquil solitude.  

© Stephen Alexander