"Wood Stories of a Forgotten Time" --by RusticWoodArt

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Blog entry by frank posted 06-07-2007 02:02 PM 965 reads 0 times favorited 1 comment Add to Favorites Watch

Wood Stories of a Forgotten Time

....and as i was gazing into your wooden whispery depth,
i found that i became as one translated to an-other epoch,
where time had slowed down to that of one continual length,
while all around there was the hearing of seeing one called enoch….

—-come walk my way and i shall be a story for you to tell,
tis not this sound you hear the wind brushing past your leaves,
and who is there to shake your branch if not by golden fire brewed spell,
till comes the silence of time and all you are perceives….

And so while out and about, at the end of a working day such as yesterday, we (my wife and I) rode out into the lower back parts of our woods. Climbing on the atv we rode deep down towards a place we call ‘oak corner’ and this is a place I have wrote and posted some pictures of before. Stopping short of oak corner’ we parked the atv and took to foot out into the backwoods, where we have not as yet established any trails. Crossing a stream we soon found ourselves in bogland, (or maybe I should remember this for a future story….’the bogland of funk’) so retracing our steps we headed up to higher drier ground and crossed a stream there.

The place we were now entering, is one that has no trails into the interior, and except for being harvested some fifteen years ago mostly for pine, remains boggy and unkept. Dense and yet in places quite open with continual new growth of ferns, we often think about how to get a road in here for the selective clearing and harvesting of wood. There is the tall overshadowing of tall pines that creates a canopy of sky cover that blocks out the sun in this area and therefore the ground remains wet throughout much of the seasons. I have yet to see tracks or sign of humans into this area, and though hunters come through in the fall they leave no sign, for which I am thankful. We are also selective about the folks we take into this area and so in essence this place remains for me as a place where ‘time forgot’.

I might mention that I have also been down here at night, when there is a full moon out and as soon as you enter herein, it is as if one just turned off the lights on you. So then comes a time a time of sitting and letting your eyes adjust some more to night vision. What remains to be seen in here at night is a place were with vivid imagination, one needs to be in full control of body, soul and spirit.

We spent some time down in here going over some of the land, before we each finally split up, my wife going her way and I going off in an-other direction. And so time passed and I found myself chatting with an old friend, one of the ancients of the place…..

....and so starting out here I’ll show a place where in a clearing of sorts, the ferns grow healthy and most full of beauty….

....ah yes, one of the ancients of this place....

....and to think that at one time all this land was cleared land, and one before me in time, let the ancient's have their way to grow into the place of where they are today....

....standing up on one of those great roots, I held my camera over my head and took this one looking inside in night vision mode....I have never took a picture of this one before, so I had to ask for permission as I respect all the anicient trees, some do not want their pictures taken as they are not yet ready....

....and then back home latter on last night I found this one growing in the garden, now you know what I'm going to be living on for weeks to come, and so I also give thanks....

Thank You.

" all my waundrings through the forest of trees, it is in the moments of silence, that the voice of wood has beckoned me on to that place where I am found as becoming one, within the heart of heartwood...."

-- --frank, NH,

1 comment so far

View MsDebbieP's profile


18615 posts in 4189 days

#1 posted 06-07-2007 02:24 PM

your words, your “being” brings tears to my eyes as I feel the history and the spirits

-- ~ Debbie, Canada (

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