I’ve been forging a new path in the west woods; doncha love the metaphor?

I’ve been in the west woods this week, clearing a new path through the pines and palmettoes.  The path begins at the edge of the backyard, circles around the young oak in the center, and ends at the firepit area.  The last few days, I’ve come in from the backyard but today I wanted to come at it from the other direction.  Properly armed with gloves and pruners, wearing jeans, long sleeved shirt and yard boots as protection from the undergrowth of thorny vine, I walked in from the firepit area.

The first thing I do is separate the grapevines into left or right of the path, then I look for a pattern within the vegetation:  where might I make the widest path while cutting the fewest palmetto fronds?  How much undergrowth shall I clear? I’d graciously re-route every time I came across a critter den.  After the first one I exposed, I began looking deep into the brush for clues before cutting away the dead fronds.   I mused that clearing this path was like clearing any path in life: you get a glimpse down a different road and want to explore it a little.  On your way to do that, you have to brush your way past old, dried debris and a few young strong stalks may be weeded out to ease the flow of the journey.  It’s all good.  That stand of palmetto frond fans was my center showcase for a dozen years.  Now I’m giving her a rest and forging a new path around her.  As I took a huge pile of fronds and grapevine cuttings out to the street, I came in the side fence and saw that the last session of cutting had exposed the entrance to the path to anyone walking in the gate.  Holy meter reader!  I quickly assessed the situation:  grrr and here I thought I felt led to make every cut I made…  Then I saw that all I have to do is fashion a wall from the grapevines and the lower hanging oak branches, and voila: camouflage!  Hey, I dig this following my inner guidance stuff.

RELATED: Last evening at the firepit
Roughing it in my own woods
I spent full moon night out under the stars
Winter Solstice at the firepit
Spirit told me to ask Jane if she had a tent for me and she did
Camping In My Woods Defrags My Stress
A New Crop Of Baby Hawks and the Bonfire Metaphor
New Year’s Eve camping at the firepit; a flame meditation