So, what does my wandering heart want? To feel out my day, to linger without worry of missing something, for to make one decision is to decide against so much else. How does a heart take in so much beauty? How to stop the brain from going into overdrive and just feel….
It smells like living things- moss and stone, dirt and leaves, decay and growth. Redwoods and mushrooms and Pieris japonica and camellia and moss and arborvitae. Chamaecyparis. Fern. Lichen and moss on everything and an earthy vibrance to it all from the unending rains that have ceased as if for my benefit. All shades of green possible to the imagination, and some that aren’t. Unlike the east in winter, there is so much aliveness here, you can feel it pulsing around you.