Springtime
Henry loved the woods. It was springtime—-and everything was waking up—even Henry.
His journeys to the woods were a constant source of amusement, discovery and refuge.
Henry had not always lived in the country and the unfortunate circumstances that resulted in his coming to live in the country likely had a lot to do with his interest in the woods—at least initially. It was a place where, by its very nature, he could momentarily forget that he was not where he wanted to be. There was no way for him to comprehend the forces that seemed to be directing his life. The challenge and thrill of learning what the woods had to offer was more than a distraction—-it was a necessity. It was the sort of sustenance by which we all end up dancing to the beat of a different drummer—-if we are lucky. It was a way for him to exert some control and direction in his life. Not just a testament of where he had to be—but now where he wanted to be.