From “Moss” by Mary Oliver:
Maybe the idea of the world as flat isn’t a tribal memory or an archetypal memory, but something far older — a fox memory, a worm memory, a moss memory.
Memory of leaping or crawling or shrugging rootlet by rootlet forward, across the flatness of everything.
In this second installment from the Quoddy Head State Park I’m sharing with you the photos I took of the inland trails and the peat bog. This forest is magical. If fairies or gnomes live anywhere in the world, it is here. There is a silence and a stillness, but also the powerful presence of life — so small that the human eye cannot quite see it, but it’s there. It is one of my most favorite places in the world, and whenever I go there I am reminded of all the other forests in which I have wandered and how much I love them, too.
Latest posts by Kelli Ann Wilson (see all)
- our common hours - October 14, 2016
- september - October 1, 2016
- 28 // 52 - August 31, 2016
- in the woods // a happy childhood - August 30, 2016
- 25, 26, & 27 // 52 - August 30, 2016