A Walk in the Woods

One crisp autumn afternoon, I wandered over to the woods. It was chilly and the air was fresh as a December morning. In the air hung the heavy scent of sap. Chipmunks and squirrels rustled in the bushes. The trees displayed marvelous crumson red, golden yellow and mellow orange leaves, a beautiful site. I aimlessly hiked the dirt path, the dry leaves crumbling under my feet. I heard a gushing, flowing soyund and spied a babbling brook. A tiny, wooden footbridge provided access to the other side. I traced the brook's beginning to a roaring waterfall, one of the most natural and serene scenes. Its beauty awed me and, for a moment, I stood perplexed by this magnificent natural wonder.

I then walked past the charming footbridge to a region of the forest greatly made up of by pine trees. Their needles jutted out everywhere, the organic carrying-case cones littered the ground. The samll of sap was unmistakably recognizable here. Every few paces, I would see a flawless nest, every twig stable. The forest was buzzing qith acticity, the samll creatures scampering to find and store food, never resting. A stampede of little feer echoed across the forest.

to be continued