The Purple Patch - Missouri Valley College

I don’t want to imagine being separated from the
woods, but there are times that I am. Times that I’m buried
under dull colors, right angles, concrete, and carpet.
When I need to regain sanity and shed the redundancy I
head to the nearest mass of trees. I will just walk and walk,
roving through an environment as chaotic and stirring
as a Pollock painting. And therein lies its beauty. Look
anywhere around and you are bound to find something
worth a closer look. All the seasons vary and affect this
organic sphere, each enhancing the depth. Be it winter,
with its starkness and snow blanketing the conifers. Be it
spring, with its emergence of new life. Be it summertime,
with its warmness and the woods majestically verdant. Be
it autumn, with the foliage arrayed in fiery reds to imperial
golds and their fallen brethren rendering the pleasant
crunch, as if each step meant something.
I have found myself multiple times entranced at
the side of a creek assimilating the melodic flow of the
stream. How I wished I was minutely collapsible so I
could roll down the side and into the water, drifting until
I reached the river, and from there to the sea. Doubtless,
I would lapse into nothingness from an excessive amount
of harmony. Let me just take a sip! Other times, I would
gaze into still water vibrating from the wind and the slight
ripples of the water striders; this caused the reflection of
the world to look fluidly abstract and paranormal. How do
the water striders feel ghosting on life itself?
Now and again, the sun will prove his dominance
with intense temperatures. This is reason enough to fly to
the nearest woods. Upon reaching the shade of the trees,
the sun gropes through the canopy with its golden claws,
ever vigilant. If I decide to linger, the sun impresses on me
and my faithful haven beautiful charms: Diffracted light
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