The Lost Art Of Sitting Like A Knot On A Log

Hello Friends! Tonight’s feature image is titled “Mossy Log 43019” and is available for purchase by following the instructions at the bottom of the article.

The forest is quiet as I approach the fallen log. The fresh smell of the moss fills my nose and the leaf litter rustles slightly as I walk. The slight breeze coming off of Summerville Lake gently shakes the new leaves. I have come to this place for a few minutes of tranquility and to absorb the scenery.

There’s a particular art to sitting on a log in the woods but it’s not really hard to master. After making sure that there’s no woodland creatures already occupying the space get comfortable. You can have a seat on log or sit on the ground and use the log as a back rest. It all depends on your relaxation style.

Next, make sure that the phone is at least on silent. Completely off is better but silent or vibrate is acceptable. I’ve got some serious decompression to do and can’t afford to be distracted.

Now it’s time to get down to business and relax. I like to close my eyes and open my ears. Before long I realize that the forest wasn’t really as quiet as first thought. The birds are normally first thing I hear. As I tune in I’m actually be able to pick out individual conversations going in branches. As I continue to scan the forest with my ears open a chipmunk chirps his disapproval at finding someone else in his path and darts under the leaves. Occasionally a honeybee buzzes the small blue flowers at the other end of log.

In addition to the moss the scent of oak pollen occasionally wafts through. Honeysuckle is also in the air.

Even though my eyes are closed you can sense a shadow crossing above me and I open my eyes to find a red tailed hawk perched on branch close by. As our eyes meet he pauses and cocks his head to one side before his powerful wings carry him deeper into the forest.

The light softens as sun now peeks through the boles and sound of the birds is replaced by a single tree frog droning for his love.

Beyond the tree line the sky is in the process of changing from blue to a soft purple and then I hear it. The whip-poor-will signals that time to leave the forest and return to civilization.

Clicking the button on the key fob brings the headlights of the big blue truck to life and lights the way out of the forest. As I exit the pathway and open the door of the truck a screech owl crackle bids me a good evening. I smile and lean out the window to whistle an owl hoot of my own in reply before driving up the gravel road towards home.

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