"Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness." -Herman Hesse
We took these photographs in Edworthy Park. The wind was silent and nobody was around except for me, Carter, and one curious fur ball named squirrel. We watched him climb from tree to tree, breaking off branches, and trying in his best way to reach us. He had no interest in the kernels from trees, only in making his heart beat as fast as his little paws. I kept moving farther and farther away from him, certain that he just wanted to rumple my hair. He kept moving closer and closer.
I do love animals but I don't come to the forest to play with them. I am merely a temporary transportation unit, a visitor in their home, an "I-am-only-here-to-look" kind of girl. I don't need to greet them with any snacks or hand gestures in order to love them. I think I learned my lesson when a moose chased me in a thick brush of snow when I was 13. I got too close to him and soon after I was running for my life.
Besides the squirrel, everything was eerily quiet. The only sounds were occasional camera clicks and the whistling of railway cars.