By Louie Ferrera

Heading out through the forest today, the journey is the trip. It’s a slow and deliberate stroll, I’m breathing, listening and seeing with eyes wide open. The air is redolent of winter, rains have given voice to the creek that flows below me as I walk upstream.  The silent stones of the creek bed have come alive, together with the flowing water a gentle symphony occurs. Plip, plop, gurggle…it’s a delightful and life affirming song, an ephemeral duet and I’m soaking in every sweet note knowing that by summer the stones will fall silent until they reawaken next winter.

Everything is green and flowing, I feel so alive and part of something greater than myself. Maidenhair Fern is the predominant plant along this trail. It’s tiny leaves sit at the end of nearly invisible stalks and appear to float in mid-air above the forest floor.  Bay trees are everywhere. I pick one of their sword shaped leaves, break it in half and a sweet, pungent aroma is released that makes my head swim. I hold the leaf under my nostrils, breathe deeply and memories of past hikes flood my mind. The sense of smell is a powerful time machine.

Mushrooms, another life form awakened by the rains, poke their heads through the forest duff. A solitary example stands about three inches tall atop a dull white stem the thickness of a chopstick. The cap is the size of a half dollar, flat and cream colored with a hint of pale yellow at its center. Other fungi peeks out from beside a trailside tree stump, this cluster of four pure white structures is a ghostly grass. Mushrooms are a mystery that I hope to never fully understand. Not all things on Earth are meant to be known.

On todays  journey I pause at Bullfrog Pond. There’s a Zen like tranquility here that’s grounding and always fills me with wonder. This place seems to exist out of time, it just is. The rains have filled the pond to the brim, water runs down the spillway at one end. The surface of the pond is khaki colored and glassy, broken only by a slight breeze which creates ripples and the illusion of flow.

Many of the same creatures that I usually encounter here are present today.  Bird life abounds. A black phoebe perches atop a skeletal willow flicking its tail and waiting for the prefect moment to swoop down and catch its next meal in mid-air. The resident pair of wood ducks are here too. The striking harlequin pattern on the head of the male makes this bird easy to identify. I’ve yet to  see the black, dinner plate sized red eared slider turtle, but I’m sure if I sit here long enough it may cruise by to say hello. (Later, on my walk around the pond, I spy it perched on a log, warming itself in the last rays of afternoon sunlight.) The chatter of acorn woodpeckers occasionally breaks the silence. A few juncos and sparrows flit in and out of the trees that surround the pond. I can see the gossamer of cobwebs  in the tops of trees. They shimmer in the breeze and glow when they catch the rays of the sun. The sun reflects off  the surface of the pond with mirror like intensity.

I love coming here at different times of the year to observe the changes that occur. It’s never the same twice. One thing that never changes though is the peaceful vibe and gentle energy that permeates this special place. Bullfrog Pond is the perfect spot for quiet thought and deep meditation.