The woods. They feature prominently in so many stories. Fairytales, myths, legends -- hundreds of opportunities to experience something other-worldly.
There is a great and marvelous magic about a wooded forest, from its leaf strewn floor, damp mingling with dusty-crunch, to the beams of sunlight filtering through moss-coated branches overhead, dust sparkling in the air like fairy glitter. The woods bode lovely things, mysterious things, the natural world inviting you into a deeper one brimming over of secret, inner imaginings full of life and strangeness and delicate, yet powerful beauty.
My heart of hearts longs for this. It always has. It's why as a child I was drawn to films such as Willow and The Neverending Story and The Dark Crystal. There is a soul-aspect that speaks to dreams and of mystery, and I find myself falling into that deeper place any time I walk in the woods. It's an invitation to something higher and truer, a place where sparkles on water allude to dancing fairies and falling leaves hint at creatures beyond the wildest imaginings.
by Sarah Lagon
As if caught within the most beautiful dream,
A vision of untouched majesty only gods could scheme —
The likes of which whisper promise of mischief quite supreme —
Lies far behind the sunset's blinding gleam
A forest beyond jagged mountain pass or gently rolling hill,
Lazily idling into that sleepy Autumnal still
Which precedes the bite of winter chill,
Where curious beasts wander at will
Capricious and cocksure creatures without fear
Which, if inattentive clod be ambling near,
Need only one swift moment to disappear
And slip softly by that untrained ear
But if, perchance, observed by wayward passerby
The mystic glint of dewy fading light might belie —
Perhaps some subtle trick of the eye —
A slight presence there where faeries lie