Friday Forest Inspiration

It was a beautiful day here in Switzerland and as the working week drew to a close, Finn rose from his snoring-filled slumber to sit upright in the wee bed he keeps next to my desk. Looking at me, one ear raised, he suggested, "Must be time for a walk, no?"

Fair enough I thought and rather than just do the block through the fields here in Gingins, which on a clear day does offer terrific views of Mont Blanc and the Alps, and passes by my favourite Oak, I thought we'd jump in the car and whip up to the forest for a gentle wander in the fading light.

Stunning it was.

Finn and I meandered up, down and round about for nigh on an hour, both on and off the track, visiting streams where all the rocks are graced with the most verdant of mosses and delighting in all the different sights and sounds. This is the forest where I guide my in-person Forest Therapy Walks, and it always offers something to calm the soul. Today it was quiet solitude, birdsong, babbling brooks, blossoming flowers and a gentle breeze to tingle the skin.

We started our stroll in an area that had not long ago been logged. The forest is certified as sustainably managed and though I'm a forester and understand how that's supposed to work, I'm increasingly wishing they could just leave some of the place alone a while. As we climbed up the debris strewn path, I was struck how relatively quiet it was; it was if the forest was in mourning. The birdsong cranked up a notch as we moved beyond the admittedly small logged area (about 5 hectares in all I reckon), into unlogged forest, resplendent with large beech, spruce and fir trees. The streams here seemed quieter, with the large trees that here hadn't been removed, perhaps dulling some of the sound.

I nestled in.

Finn, looking dashing in his red harness, smelled his way here, there and everywhere and though he's always on a lead - he's deaf so we can't risk losing him if he bolts off after a deer - I followed him rather than directing where we'd walk. Finn led me up a relatively unused path and there, in a lovely patch of happiness, the forest floor came alive with newly blooming, white snowdrops.

We sat a while and took in the view. The birds let themselves go in celebration and we had a lovely symphony of stream, bird and wind song; quietly and joyfully we danced with the trees; not AC DC dancing, more a gentle swaying along with the tree crowns high above.

We circled back around after a while and came into what I think of as a beautiful, natural cathedral. On a recent Forest Therapy walk, the wind picked up so much that as we'd stood, looking at the trees, devoid of all their leaves in the winter cold, their crowns really were dancing in the strong winds. I'd never noticed that in this particular forest before. Funny how it is that each and every time we go - I've been to that forest perhaps 100 times - we see or hear, smell, touch or taste something new. Today the winds weren't as strong so while we had some swaying, there were no clashes, branch on branch.

Finally we arrived back to the car, satisfied with ourselves and grateful for the gifts the forest had shared - a deep sense of calm and a renewed belief in the beauty of the world.

It set both Finn and I up for a great weekend ahead and as we drove the short way back home, we committed ourselves to doing that again.