Doing Nothing, Just Sitting In the Woods

Some days, when’s a lull between the usual rush of activities, I don’t know what to do. I’m restless and look around for something productive to work on. Then I see the woods.

In midwinter, the woods in central Illinois are bare and brown. The sky is generally gray, and on most days there isn’t enough sun to satisfy my cat. Without leaves in the way, I can see a mile over to the next hill where there are more brown trees. Brown doesn’t interest me much. I prefer green.

As I walk down the hill into the woods it’s quiet, at least quiet when compared to city sounds. It takes time for my ears to adjust. I follow the bend around to where a creek has carved a channel into the land, and find a dry place to sit. Today there is sun. I lean back against a tree and wait.

Everything around me seems to be frozen or missing, as if all mobile wildlife has packed its bags and traveled south for the winter. Those without feet or wings have pulled back underground, back to their roots. When I look closer, I see a patchwork of life thriving.

The trees and bushes are several shades of brown, and the dry leaves that paper the ground are a spectrum of muted colors — brown, of course, but also red, yellow, purple, and a surprising blue. Large rocks have an assortment of lichen in yellow, gray, black, orange and sage green.

There are also signs of death. Several trees have limbs that have lost their bark, and the snowstorm a month ago left a wake of damage. Several trees toppled over from the heavy weight of snow on their branches, leaving their roots exposed. One tree was simply snapped in half fifty feet up.

The breeze, with a hint of warmth, flows up along the hollow of the creek bed. Squirrels emerge to dig for acorns. White-breasted nuthatches hop up tree trunks, and a red-tailed hawk circles overhead, watching the ground for movement.

A crow caws from my left. A response comes from the other direction, and a laid-back conversation begins as each crow thinks about something witty to say before responding.

The last time I was here, several deer followed each other along the ridge.

There is a spirit to these woods; a presence I feel inside that calms my anxiety.

I shouldn’t wait for a lull in my schedule to come here, because this is where my heart and imagination are rooted. Everything I do needs to rise from this.