I grew up across the street from a hardwood forest that was right behind Linda’s house. My friends and I would walk down her steep driveway and, almost immediately, enter the mystery of the woods. We would descend the first hill, then the second hill, and finally the third hill to get to the creek. There, we played for hours, swinging from vines, digging up rich, wet clay and exploring rock and water and the delicious squishiness of mud.
I don’t remember a single time when grownups came to find us. It was our little paradise.
In this multiple exposure, I simulate the tapestry that was our hideaway. The entanglements in nature. The explosion of color. The dreamy feeling of being far away. The wildflowers. The dappled light. The depth and the mystery.
As John Muir said, “The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.”