Just me and me (ok, and the trees)

Every morning, after a cup of tea and the Wordle, I take a walk around the small lake near my home. To get there, I walk along a small path surrounded by native trees and, because they were introduced after the second world war to honour fallen soldiers, many, many, pine trees. As I walk, I purposely brush my hands against leaves and bracken ferns. Sometimes I startle a kangaroo or two. If I am lucky, I spot a koala high up a tree. If I am really lucky, I don't come across anyone else on my walk and it is just me and the trees (a bit selfish, I guess, to want all of this to myself). When I reach the lake, I take a left onto the path that navigates around the lake. I take a deep breath. The Australian bush has a unique smell, especially early in the morning when the sun is beginning to toast the leaves of Eucalypts and the native bushes. I hold my face up to the sun, just for a moment or two; I notice the ducks on the lake and the old termite paths on bark-less dead tree trunks; I like to run my fingers over these. One day I imagine placing tracing-paper over these and doing termite 'rubs' with a lead pencil - just like I did with coins when I was young. I keep walking, quite purposely now, feeling privileged that I can do this every day; I am also grateful for the sense of contentment I feel. And, there it is, my favourite tree; this is the tree I hug (okay, if someone is present, I just give it a pat as I walk past and quietly say 'hello tree', because I am too embarrassed to hug a tree in front of anyone). My favourite tree has rough, but strangely soft, bark. It is leaning to one side as if to reach across the path and touch its opposite neighbour. I think this is why I like that tree so much; it seems to want 'contact', and so I am happy to oblige with a hug, or a quick pat. This is my morning Shinrin-yoku.

#shinrinyoku #forestbathing