Two months of travel in the tropics pressed some sort of reset button in my psyche, and so a couple of days ago instead of succumbing to the melancholy induced by heavy grey skies and damp, chilly air, I headed up to the community forest for a stroll through the second-growth redwoods. After all, this is barely more than a mile from my front door!
Prior to “reset,” however, I rarely allowed myself the hour to escape from my desk and the ever-expanding list of work and errands.
The massive soft-barked trees reaching high up into the fog, deep gorges covered with dripping ferns and emerging spring buds, boots squishing through the muddy redwood duff, cool redwood-scented air filling my lungs and flushing my cheeks – it took less than five minutes for feelings of depression to begin to dissipate.
But the real incentive for my visit was the trilliums. I’d come home during the short window of time when the white star-shaped flowers are in bloom. A springtime walk through the redwood forest when it is awash with delicate trilliums shimmering with rain drops.
Melancholy? What melancholy?