A PRAISE TO NATURE

As I sit completely exhausted in my uncomfortable chair at the desk in my office and stare into the absorbing darkness of the turned-off computer screen, I, for some reason, come to think of my adventures in the forest as a child. Perhaps it is the last drops of the dark brown coffee in my mug that reminds me of the bark on the trees, or perhaps it is the too green plastic plant on my shelf that makes me long for the fresh and true version. It is also very possible that the memories of the forest were evoked by my desperate desire to escape the noise of the constant beeping and ringing telephone and the never-ending pile of chores labeled on my desk with the title: “To do”. However, my thoughts keep reminiscing about two specific adventures that took place in the same forest but in two so contrasting settings. I remember them both with deep fondness due to their breathtaking and alluring landscapes.

The first time I visited a forest, I remember it was winter, and I was supposed to stay near my dear mother, but I had other intentions. I lean back in my uncomfortable chair and let my subconsciousness visit the treasured memories as if it was possible to go back in time and experience it all anew.

As I am released from my mother’s ensuring grasp, her warm hand letting go of mine, my adventure begins. We are far from the city, the only place I have ever known. I have never been in a forest; and this one begs me to explore it. “Do not get lost, dear,” my mother gently says. I do not answer her because that is exactly what I intend.

I am released onto the man-made plastic playground where several other children are playing, but as time drifts away, so do I. I drift further and further away until one of my shoes steps off the playground and onto the frosty, crusty, snowy grass, causing the funniest sounds. As my other shoe follows, step by step, the noise of the playground is slowly replaced with a cheeping symphony of the birds so high up in the trees that I cannot see them. The white snow glitters in the sun, the same way the black pavement in the city glitters when the light of the streetlamps hit the surface after rain. Sparkling like fairy dust spread all over the ground.

Long ice crystals, hanging on the branches of the trees, are dripping in almost rhythmic manners. When looking through the crystals from just the right angle, the beaming sunshine becomes even more intense, shining like a little star hanging closer to me than ever. I cannot help myself; I need to touch the crystal, and in that instant moment where the tip of my finger brushes the smooth surface, a chill runs through my entire body.

The colors out here are nothing like the ones at home, where everything is grey and metallic. The world out here is full of enchanting white, blue, green, and yellow in every possible hue.

As I take my adventure deeper into the forest, I find footsteps in the snow. They look like they could be from a dove hopping through the thick layer of snow. I follow the small leaf-looking steps to a tall tree, stretching almost all the way up to the shining sun. With a hand covering my eyes, I spy after the dove, and to my surprise, I do not find the white bird I have seen so many times in the city; instead, I find a peculiar and different bird. Some of its feathers are black, and some are white, but the most compelling color on the bird is the bright red just below the tail feathers.

I stand completely still and observe the bird as he hops around on the branch. He makes little jumps all the way to the tree trunk, and then he begins hammering his head into the bark. At first, I fear for the bird’s behalf, but then he speeds up the hammering, and a new noise spreads throughout the forest, almost the sound of a small drum. I begin laughing, curious as to why on earth a bird would choose to hammer its head against a tree, but who am I to judge. I am in his world now.

My adventure leads me away from the hammering bird and to a fallen tree. A new strong smell begins filling my nose, and I cannot decide whether I like this intense smell or not. It reminds me of Christmas, but the smell is so much stronger than it ever has been in our apartment. The bushy, dark green top looks wrong on the ground when instead, it should be up against the sky. Yet my curiosity is drawn to the opposite end. The roots at the far end of the tree are stretched out in every possible direction, looking intriguing.

An anxious tickle runs through my body as I slowly make my way to the roots and the deep crater in the ground from where the tree once stood. It looks like the entrance to a troll cave, or maybe someone has hidden a treasure in the big hole. I slowly peek around the roots and into the hole, and to my surprise I find something I have never seen before. It is not a troll nor a treasure, but an animal curled into a little reddish ball. The mysterious animal is sound asleep, with its fluffy, white-tipped tail almost covering its entire body. The color of the animal is almost similar to the withered leaves on the ground. I can almost feel the soft fur run through my fingers, but something keeps me from reaching out: maybe a little fear.

I leave the reddish animal to its sleep and continue my adventure. As I step through the frosty grass, my fingers still ache to touch something, and then I see a beguiling plant rising through the white snow. It does not bear any resemblance to a flower at all. It has a white stem and grows into a small red hat sprinkled with white dots. It looks very similar to a lollipop due to the bright red color, and I instantly feel the urge to touch and even taste the weird plant. As I reach out, I become puzzled because it does not feel at all like I expected. Instead, it feels cold, smooth, and slimy, almost like a wet wine gum, so I decide against tasting it.

I jump over a cluster of rocks, walk around a great bush, duck under several branches, and suddenly, I find myself back at the playground. In the instant moment that my feet touch the man-made playground, the symphony of the birds is replaced by the noise of the playing children. My mother walks through the crowd of families, and then she sees me. She smiles at me when I join her. “There you are, my dear. I’m glad you stayed close by,” she says as if I had been here the entire time and not on the most extraordinary adventure. “When can we come back?” I eagerly ask, knowing we are soon to return to the city. “We will have to see,” my mother answers.

***

After six months of longing and yearning, I finally stand upon the playground once again, but this time it is an entirely new landscape surrounding us. The snow has melted, the trees are blooming, and the sun is shining even brighter than last time. When I turn my face towards the sun, I feel the sunbeams warming my skin like the gentle touch of my mother’s palm. A new curiosity is slowly emerging, and I wonder whether the sun is white or yellow. Within seconds, I begin my investigation with squeezed eyes against the shining sky, but no matter how tightly I squeeze my eyes to the narrowest crack, I am not able to decide the color of the glowing celestial body.

“Now remember, my dear, stay on the playground,” my mother says. I nod, but in all truthfulness, I can barely wait to be released and begin my next adventure. In the instant moment the opportunity presents itself, I run towards the green bliss of nature as fast as my legs can carry me. I huff, and puff until my lungs ache and black spots cover my eyes. Then I stop. I even fall pantingly onto my hands and knees and try to catch my breath.

Without being able to see, I feel the tall soft grass brush slightly against my bare hands, almost as if it were the fur of an animal. The blades are thick and numerous, covering every inch of the soil under my hands. I dig my fingers through the grass, into the dirt, and even further into the sudden coldness below ground, where the kisses of the sun can never reach. Dirt glide under my nails, but I do not mind it at all. If I am allowed here, it is allowed there.

As the black dots slowly disappear from my eyes, the colorful forest ground appears clearer and clearer. The ground is coated in various flowers differing in height and shape, yet they all share one characteristic; each and every petal on the flowers is in the most magical and breathtaking color. Some of them are red, some are orange, pink, blue, and even purple; all of them in the loudest and brightest hue I have ever seen. And the smells! Oh, what heavenly smells. Mother’s perfumes smell almost the same but not as intense and marvelous as these flowers.

The surrounding sounds are so very different from the last time I was here. The forest is much noisier and on the verge of being overwhelming, yet in the most welcoming way possible. The city is also full of noise coming from cars honking, cyclist ringing their bells, and grownups talking loudly on their phones. In the city, the noise is a fatiguing exasperation. In the forest, the noise is the most purifying, wholesome orchestra composed of so many tiny voices. The birds are chipping, like the last time, but they sound as if they multiplied by hundreds. Their chipping is accompanied by the buzzing of the many flying bees, and every now and then I hear the hammering of my friend, the black and white bird with the red spot under the tailfeathers.

I am so sincerely captivated by all this that I have been sitting completely still on my hands and knees for I do not even know how long. To my most delightful surprise, a little white rabbit jumps through the grass toward me. He stops right in front of me, stands on his hind legs, and investigates me. The moist, black nose brushes against mine as he sniffs my face. I try my very best to stay as still as possible despite the tickling on my nose, but I fail. Unfortunately, my laugh scares him away and his tall ears disappear into the forest. I allow myself to get back up on my feet. I wish to see much more of the forest before I must return home. I take off my shoes and walk through the tall grass with bare feet, relishing in the feeling of my feet sinking just a little into the soil with each step.

Despite there being so many unknown flowers and plants as far as the eye can see, I still succeed in finding one plant I actually recognize. It is a bush with dark green leaves, some white flowers with a yellow center, and delicious red strawberries. I do not hesitate to pluck multiple berries and instantly fill my mouth with their sweetness. The berries explode in my mouth, turning into the most extraordinary tasting experience I have ever had. They are full of the most exquisite berry juice you can even imagine. I fill my entire mouth with the berries until only a sparse amount left on the bush, and I feel slightly guilty about my greedy hands.

I look around to ensure no one witnessed my doing but instead I find myself compelled by a colorful butterfly swiftly waving through the air. It is accompanied by one more beautiful creature and then one more. The three butterflies fuse together in a magnificent display of their colorful wings. I am enchanted by their floating dance. What if these butterflies are not just butterflies but fairies trying to show me their dreamland? I must follow them.

Slowly and without touching their delicate wings, I follow them as they fly between the tall trees. It is almost as if they dare me sometimes to jump over a rock and then duck under a branch as if they are testing whether I am worthy of their time. I do their bidding and laugh all the way to a narrow water stream where the fairies cross the water. I cannot follow, but I see them fly toward an enormous, purple bush filled with thousands upon thousands of other fairies. As if the three fairies want to express their gratitude for my efforts to follow them, they make the entire bush come to life. All their friends fly out to greet them before they create a magnificent swirl of colorful wings.

I decide to leave the fairies to themselves and walk beside the stream of water, carrying on with my adventure. The dripping sound of the small waves flowing down the stream is just one more soothing instrument in the organic orchestra, and my eyelids become so very heavy. How alluring it is to just lay down in the soft grass and fall into a peaceful slumber among the animals and flowers. I do not lie down but close my eyes and let nature guide me. I am flowing through the forest. I am at peace, and I am happy.

“What a fine smile, my dear. Are we ready to go home?” My mother’s voice brings me back to the real world, where I stand on the edge of the playground. I had not even heard the change in the sounds this time, or noticed where I was going.

“I am home, mother,” I smiled happily at her.

I envy the child I once was for being capable of wandering through the forest with such a vivid imagination and innocence. I envy how much I could enjoy the simple wonders of nature and let my curiosity guide me through the magical landscape. It never occurred to me that I was in fact just beside the playground. Maybe my mother was even able to keep an eye on me while I drifted away onto my adventures. Everything in the forest, both in the winter wonderland and the summer fairytale, was so pure and divine. When was the last time I visited a forest? What does a forest look like today, and what sort of adventure would I experience if I went just now?

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