Each spring, the emergence of new life brings a renewed sense of belonging in the forest, for me personally. This time of year, I'm always drawn to the woodlands close to home - maybe due to a "hangover" from a long (awesome) winter of weekend ski trips up north. Coming home to a world that is quite literally exploding with life is a stark contrast to the drab, monochrome, reality of early spring in Vermont.
The hardwood forests near my home in Southern Connecticut are vastly different than those up north. Obvious, yes, but often overlooked. It's quiet, smaller, almost cozy, but no less beautiful, especially during springtime when the season-change is advancing faster than anywhere else in New England. Skunk cabbage is first, then it's a rapid succession to spring ephemerals like trout lily and trillium... soon, the entire forest is an oasis of new life. On the warmest mornings, a cacophony of songbirds flutter in the canopy, now thick enough to block out the sun. Little things, like hearing a mosquito behind my ear or the breeze rustling the leaves invigorates me; I feel as though I'm coming alive with everything else!
For now, you can find Tripper and I roaming the stonewall-laced woodlands of Connecticut, but my brief reprieve from going north is stoking the fire to go back. The north woods will always be waiting for me.
