On my way to the car I saw the trail into the woods. I've never really gone that far down it and decided, now that it was fall, it would be easier to navigate. Cutting away from the parking lot I began my journey. If the sounds of falling leaves could be felt it was present in the static of the dry fall air. I jumped over a small cut in the path that looked like it could be some sort of drainage and continued through the rustling leaves, hearing the company of non-human footsteps. My senses heightened, I kept one eye on the water and the other on the trail. I got to the spot where I was stopped by overgrowth on my last visit and handily walked on through the dried remnants. Many different types of plants, vines and berries were all around me.
The trail split and I cut to the right under a large pine tree wondering if I would encounter any ticks. It is too late in the season for them, but as I learned last week with the snake incident, nature does not follow the same calendar I do. I continued under a bunch of low stalks that were covered with vines carrying some type of blueberry on them. On the other side, the wood gave way to an opening. There were trees with magical red and white berries on them. I had been at the brook for almost an hour, it was time to work my way back. I began to take a different trail and paid dearly for it. It was lined with thorn bushes. The jacket I was wearing was tough, but my jeans were not. As, “Pay attention when your hiking”, crossed my mind, I got rapped in a thorn vine slightly above my right knee. I calmly tried to undo the thorns, but soon realized my left leg had suffered a similar fate with less effect. I gently pulled away, but not without taking a few good hits from the pointy tips. Annoyed at myself, I started back to the car.
I reached in my jacket pocket to retrieve the cap for my long range lens. It was not there. I searched my other pockets, but it wasn't there. I got to the car and checked my camera bags, it was not there either. I remembered taking it out of my pocket and saying to myself, “If I don't secure it, I'll lose it.”. That was by the magical berry trees. I rushed back down the trail avoiding the pine trees via a new route where an animal must have had a good bird dinner the night before. Two fallen sticks had formed an 'X' as if hiding some buried treasure, but no lens cap was to be found. I got to what I thought was the magic berry trees, but quickly realized I had overshot them by a couple hundred feet.
This trail lead to a wide opening by the water. I wanted to go back and look for my lens cap, but I could not resist seeing where I was on the brook. I walked to the water and found, what will be, a great spot for photos when I go back. I returned to where I was before and searched for my lens cap. It was not there.
I began slowly walking the trail back. Half looking for the lens cap, half admiring the landscape. With all of the leaves on the ground, it is surprising how slowly the fall is creeping into the trees of the brook. There is still a lot of green. I continued on to a bend in the path, looking up I saw one, time torn, red leaf clinging to the tip of a branch. It stood in defiance of the blowing wind. It had succeeded where all of his brethren had failed. He was a lone, red survivor swimming in a sea of green. Off to the field and the car beyond. My lens cap just another remnant of man left in the peaceful woods.
What does the title have to do with any of this? I don't know, it was just something that made it's way into my meditative thoughts while hiking.
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