The Woods Gallery

Between our place and the home of my dear friend & neighbour down the road, there is a lovely, tranquil woods.  It was a wonderful place to celebrate a gorgeous spring afternoon.

The trilliums were in full splendor. A gentle, fragile flower rejoicing in the spring sunshine before the canopy of leaves covers its world. To see such a joyous multitude of trillium was a delight. 

When I was a child in elementary school, the trillium was a magical, illusive flower. So important that it was chosen to represent our entire province. I believed it rare, in fact, almost extinct and the sighting of one would be as significant as finding a fairy in the woods. 

 I took quite seriously and with great solemnity, 'The Trillium Lesson'. Which was: "Never, Ever, EVER – under any circumstances -pick a trillium." It was illegal. Against The Law. You would be put away, most likely forever. But even worse - once picked, they would never come back.  I was in awe of trillium, but a little afraid I might mistakenly injure one, alarms would go off and I would be immediately wisked off to jail. 

I did not pick the trillium in the woods – then or now. Nor any of the wild flowers for that matter.  I have a feeling of reverence for them, that they are special gift because WE have not planted them. They belong to God and Mother Nature. They belong to everyone and to no one.

Our afternoon stroll through the woods was like visiting the most delightful gallery.  Everything was Art. 

There were old gnarled trees sculpted by weather and woodpeckers. There was a wonderful old stump that had offered itself as a home to a bouquet of trillium. And soft and fragrant blossoms  amongst the otherwise stark and barren trees.

 There were richly rusted ironworks, their forms interesting sculptures in stark contrast to the softness and subtle hues of their surroundings. Like any good art, they have a story to tell.  

As did the presence of an erect dog figure standing guard amidst a pile of sticks and wire.  She says to me: 

‘Just because I am Pink & Plastic & a Poodle, do not misjudge me.

Not all that appears fragile, is."

There is peace and tranquility and solace in the woods.

 And there is Art. 

And stories. 

Such a wonderful place to spend a pleasant spring afternoon

 with a friend.