Spiderwebs glisten in the fall morning light as fog dissipates and sunlight dapples the forest floor of the arboretum near my home in Oregon. Industrious webs span tree limbs, barely visible, dew giving them away. The forest makes its own rain, fog gathering on needles and cradled in leaves until its weight forms droplets that patter quietly on soft ground.
Wandering trails well worn, I am transported to the many hikes that have shaped my life. Effortlessly, I am back in the pine forests of Wyoming on chatty forays with my beloved sisters and brother, full of laughter and stories; extended walks with my mother, often taken with purpose sharing a special destination or an insight; quiet long hikes on mountain trails with my father, taken simply for the joy of being there together.