What if I’m walking through those woods, the woods with towering redwoods and the sweet summer smell of dust and needles, as an itty bitty person? I’m still me, just a teeny tiny me. What would I see?
It’s the new growth I like the most. The bright green of new needles that could make for a gently curved bed. I could lie down on the little tree arm and take a nap. It would smell so sweet. So pine-y.
But I like the clover too. The clover that looks like a ground blanket to big people, to usually sized people, but that is a series of umbrellas to me, providing dappled shade at the height of the day. It’s true that the sun doesn’t often get through the canopy, which I can barely see since it’s never-ending. It nearly touches the moon, I think. But when a little light does come through, it makes the clover umbrellas seem like a resort on the shore of the sea in the South of France.
Instead, I am a tiny me in Big Sur, revisiting paths I have walked before, but from a new perspective.
Thanks, Daily Post + photo library.