A path less trod

A phrase I try to aspire to - although not one that is that easy to achieve. I suppose you can make the meaning of that sentence bend and flow as you need it for your own life. Whether you use it figuratively or symbolically.

Today's post takes the literal meaning of the path less trod.

Although this little path can be easily taken, most walkers seem to steam on ahead along the main route, ignoring the quiet invitation. Yesterday, I stepped off that often busy and certainly muddy way and lead my little pack into the trees.

Moss, ever ready, shot on ahead, I chose to ignore the quizzical mutterings of the other two.

 

It was like stepping off into the unknown. Falling from a causeway into a secretive space. The air felt different and my two, who'd been deep in conversation in a mechanical masculine vein soon fell under the spell.

The path meandered through larch trees, quietly heralding spring with the tiniest pink buds.

I collected a few that had fallen and Himself held them for me - we left them on a mossy log - the colours were beautiful.

The little woodland finished all too quickly but we had all felt it's magic.

We will return.