New path at MSF - Poem

Photo by: Tim Bindner

Saturday October 28, 2023. I woke at 6am and gathered my things. I ate breakfast and loaded my stuff in the car before making the 15-minute drive to Mount Saint Francis.

There was unseasonably warm weather for this time of year, and we expected rain tomorrow, so this would be my only chance to hike this weekend. I expected today and tomorrow to be in the mid-sixties before Monday, and the rest of the week would only reach high in the upper forties.

I drove to Mount Saint Francis in the dark. My wipers were on as the mist covered my front windshield. This was not fog, but a light mist. I soon arrived in the parking lot and sat in my car, debating if I wanted to hike or not. I don’t mind cool weather, but rain can make things miserable and dangerous. After five minutes, I made my mind up to hike.

Heading down the initial path towards the woods, my glasses got covered by the light mist. I had a baseball cap on, but the brim only blocked part of mother nature’s spray. I knew the woods would provide cover, and I only had a quarter of a mile before I entered.

Crossing the field and entering the woods, the sound of rain hitting the trees above was rhythmic. I soon realized that it wasn’t raining, but the sounds I heard were from falling leaves and water droplets. Either way, it sounded like rain and was very soothing.

Today I planned to take an alternative route in the area, that I had only discovered on my last trip here. Last time I traveled down a steep hill in the back of the area. Today I would take the steep hill up.

Fallen leaves covered the paths, but I had traveled these so many times, I could likely traverse them blindfolded. The off and on sounds of the water falling above me, and occasional squirrel darting from tree to tree, stirring up leaves while doing so, were calming.

I reached the back of the park and took the new trail toward the creek. The creek bed was covered in leaves and mostly dry. I easily crossed it, then headed along a less traveled path. Like last week, the trail was very narrow, and I could tell few people had hiked this before. It was difficult to determine where the path was. I was now headed up the steep slope. Each step was hard as the slick leaves and what they hid underneath them made the footing more difficult. This short and steep section was complete. I reached flat ground, where I stopped to catch my breath.

I continued and heard strange things in the surrounding woods. First, it was whistles from birds I had never heard before. Then tapping. Then rustling out of eyesight. It was unnerving, but I trekked forward until I reached the open field.

My waterproof boots got soaked in the rain. The rain soaked my shirt. And I was sweating because of the high humidity in the air. The open field I was now walking through had fog rolling across it. I quickly raised my camera and captured the shot above. It was ethereal.

Today’s walk was relaxing. I was alone, which I like. I experienced rare beauty in this not so ideal weather. Though the weather was not great, honestly, I loved them. It felt like a warm blanket to me. It was so comforting.

I completed my 3.82-mile hike and drove back home. The mist washed away my troubles, and I was ready to face a new day with my wife. One that would later lead me to Cave Hill Cemetery for additional photographing.

Here is another one of my attempts at a poem.

Misty Woods

In the misty woods, where secrets hide,

The trees stand tall, their branches wide.

The mist dances, a ghostly veil,

The breeze sighs, a haunting wail.

Through the forest’s silent trees.

Their secrets flow upon the breeze.

Whispers echo through the air,

Of creatures unseen, with their tales to share.

The mist is alive, a mystic guide,

Leading me to where dreams reside.

So, step into the misty woods,

Where the magic blooms and I’m deceived by falsehoods.

Let the mist embrace me, soul, and heart,

And I played my part in this mystical art.

Until next time,

Tim