Wilderness Therapy

Last weekend I entered the land of sunny skies, brilliantly colored trees, and scores and scores of people. I checked out a smaller-than-usual but satiating art show, a disappointing photo show, a shorter-than-usual parade, and a few other traditional events of the time.
There was also a walk in the woods, where beauty surrounds at every single angle and the fresh air feels like ohm. I found a Burtonesque dead tree (Tim, that is), an orange and white mushroom scene in a dark spot in a log that looked like a small stage, yellow and red leaves suspended in mid-air by a spider web strand, dying ferns, several varieties of bright, green moss, sparkly rocks, and beaver teeth marks on some trees.
I felt so happy and refreshed, until the grind of work, and the jolt of a conflict from last week getting rehashed again today, reminded me of why I so badly needed a change of scenery. I need to go back to the woods. I never thought I would think that.