Back to Nature (Published on - Sept. 1, 2004)
A place for fairies discovered in the morning mist
A heavy fog followed the storms of the night filling the forest with thick, damp mystery. Fresh mushrooms of yellows, oranges and white peeked from around rounded mounds of moss and leaf litter along our soggy path.

The morning sun made halos of light through the darkened, wet trees. It was early before the heat had time to settle in. Moisture dripped from the canopy in rhythmic sounds like primitive distant drumming. Dew hung precariously from thousands of webs strung as if diamonds threaded on silk. Wildflowers abounded in soft pinks, pale yellows and lavenders.

I quietly wondered aloud, “I’m certain fairies live here.” My partner whispered low, soft, “Yes.” The forest floor was covered with leafy vines and fallen trees bejeweled with colorful lichen where immature seedlings had found their landing here and there onto the soft decaying wood pulp. We listened carefully for the songs of birds, the lyrical chiming-in of tree frogs and buzzing of early rising cicadas, native music that’s found only in deep, wild places like these woods full of mystery.

My thoughts flowed in chain sentences, I never want to leave. What are the very basics I would need to survive here, tent, cabin, teepee? Water – could I harvest enough for drinking? Could I bathe in the lake? What did “they” do before me? Was it peaceful then or were wars fought over this peaceful place of plenty? What is there to eat: frogs, fish, eggs, birds, berries, grapes, cattails, bear, bobcat, deer, raccoon and squirrel?

Humans have created a world that provides us with all these basics and more but what about peace of mind? I never want to leave, I thought again.

We walk here in a place that few know about and few will. Places of peaceful beauty are becoming difficult to find. People find solace in “elsewhere.” We have turned our faces toward man-made cathedrals and our backs on what the Creator gifted us naturally. We listen to the church bells ring. We sing in choirs. We kneel at the altar in prayer. We line our children up all dressed in finery like little ducks in rows instructing them to listen quietly to sermons written by the hands of man but when do we get up and meet the sunrise holding a child’s hand?

When do we walk among trees and dragonflies? Who has seen the dew turn to diamonds? What child has held a broken egg shell in her hand?

These are the gifts of life. These natural places are the Creator’s hand holding us, rocking us, relying on us as guardians. Too many of these wild places are simply mystery, of fairies and dream songs – only read about in books and seen in films of magicians. The question is: what is real and what is not?

You can’t buy serenity, that must come from within. You can’t build sacred, it already is. What you touch is what you believe in. What you can’t see is a mystery. We accept a great deal of what other’s tell us is truth, but the real test is to look into your own heart and soul and find that quiet place where only honesty can survive and ask yourself, who am I? Where do I stand?

As the evening sun strikes your glassed up window, step outside and breathe the night air. Let yourself flow into peaceful reality back to nature.

Karen can be reached at

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