Parallel Forest

I love the Parallel Forest; I especially love it when I’m by myself!  The equal spacing and parallel plantings present a picture of calm, silence, and peace.  Planted in the the spring of 1912, the cedars are nearing 100 years old.  They’ve stood witness to many things now history and long forgotten.  They’ve stood and flourished through years of plenty and have withstood times of hardship, too.  The ice storm of January 28, 2010, was one that hit hard and left its mark.  Living in Lawton and seeing the destruction left in the wake of that storm kept me away from the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge for months.  It was April before I made my first trip there since the storm and I was heartbroken by the scene.  However, even then I avoided going by the Parallel Forest for fear of what I might see there.  Even though I have made numerous trips back since then, it was only this past Thursday that I was able to pull off Hwy 115, and into the small black-topped parking lot belonging to this grove of native red cedar trees.  I think the reason that brought me here now, was the reality of an approaching surgery and the desire to experience the peace and calm I always found here.  I needed that and I needed to slow down, be still, and know GOD.  This is a good place for that.

It was hard seeing tree tops broken, downward pointing, still attached to their life source though dead themselves.  Others had broken free and littered the floor normally open and clear.  The sun was now rising and I was walking directly into the ever brightening light.  Between me and the sun, three elk were bugling from someplace unseen.  There was a rafter of turkeys about 40 yards away to my left.  They knew I was there, and though cautious, seemed willing to accept my presence as long as I seemed uninterested.  I could admire them but do little else with the only lens I had with me at the time lacking the reach needed.  But what I did notice was a much greater amount of grass growing beneath the cedar canopy above.  The broken tops and limbs were letting the life giving light reach the ground allowing green grasses and purple flowers to grow.  Though I had been here many times and walked these well worn trails it was different this time.  I don’t know if it’s better or worse, or just different, but I know I kept wanting to sit my tripod and walking stick down, sit upon the ground, lean against a cedar trunk, and listen to the quiet.  The air was still, the only sounds being an occasional bugle from an elk, a gobble from a turkey, a chirp from a cricket, and a song from an unknown bird.  This is a description of ultimate boredom for some, but it’s paradise for me; I talk to my LORD and it seems he talks back to me.  I ask HIM to let me see:  the light, the beauty, what HE wants me to see.

I’ve always enjoyed looking into the light.  Things seem to glow and colors are brighter when light shines through them rather than reflected upon them.  It’s a lot different than reflected light.  Almost everything reflects light, but not everything allows the light to pass through.  People are that way, too.  Some people reflect the LIGHT, some don’t, but a few glow as the LIGHT passes through; you can see it in their eyes; you can see it in their aura.  This morning I walked farther and farther into the light looking for a special glow.  I walked far enough I knew it was wrong to continue.  I turned and began my return trip.  Everything was reflected light, and seemed dull to me and disappointment was growing within.  After reaching the point of my beginning, I sat down on the ground, reluctant to leave.  As I sat there, looking back into the forest, the light rose higher in the sky ever changing the patterns of light that danced across the forest floor.  I began to see what I was supposed to see as the light began to crawl toward me.  Finally, I’m lying flat on my stomach stretched out upon the bare dirt, my tripod spread out before me.  I’m seeing familiar things with a new perspective.  I’m seeing old things in brand new ways while breathing the earthiness of the dirt underneath me.  I call the images I made this morning, “A Rabbit’s View”.  I hope you enjoy this one.