We were walking through an umber-brown, ancient forest. It reeked of age. Its woody incense was from centuries of snapping branches crashing to the forest’s floor and rotting silently. The composting, organic smell rose up in waves like a miasma. Every sprawling tree we passed under reminded me of a watchful guardian, a silent sentinel of the groves. We decided to venture deeper into the tangled heart of this primeval forest. We hoped that it would reveal its dark secrets to us.
The further we went, the more mystical and spellbinding it became. Huge roots spread-eagled the ground, twisting like the great backs of sea dinosaurs. The foliage became thick and lush, forming an arch of fairytale-green above our heads. Arthritic boughs, gnarled with age, dripped their bounty of nuts onto the path. Briars, brambles and berry trees flanked the trail, making it impenetrable on either side. Shuffling noises came from deep in the interior, deadened by the cunningly woven web of leaves. A troupe of shambling badgers crossed the winding trail in front of us at one point. They were finishing up their early morning foraging and looked startled to see us.
We arrived at a wide glade, where the trees fell away, revealing the bespeckled sky. The last of the morning’s stars were glinting like silver pin pricks, luminous and bright. An ore gold moon hung quietly in the distance, casting a honeyed sheen over the trees. We sat down with our backs against a lightning blasted tree trunk and watched it fade away. As if on cue, an avian aria erupted from the knot of trees. The solitary songbird was soon joined by his beaked companions, creating a symphony of song. The heart haunting melody was an elixir for the soul. The sap sweet fragrance of the forest washed over us and we were seduced by its comforting goodness. We placed some stinging nettle leaves into the broth we were brewing and it added a tingling, chlorophyll flavour. When we were leaving, I risked a glance over my shoulder. The forest glade looked freeze frame perfect in the enhanced light of the full dawn.The morning stars peeped down at us like silver asters, glinting and shimmering. They looked happy in their solar-silver isolation. We could see wild basil growing freely on the clumpy, mossy mattress of the floor. The simpering wind carried a fragrance with it. It was spirit-refreshing to smell the mulchy mix of the forest’s perfume. We ate a few windfall apples and they were mead sweet with a bitter twist. It was only after we got the stomach cramps that we regretted it.
