The forest is beautiful at any point of the year, even in the depths of winter when stark and bare, besieged by winds, sodden and sombre, but now. At this point of the wheels transit the woods transcend beauty for another level. Vibrant greens of every hue overwhelm the senses, the stuff of life and fecundity are never more apparent. There's a riot going on, but there are no barricades though, no oppressor to subdue, this is a riot of life. The deeper you penetrate, the more distant the hum drum sounds of human activity becomes, replaced by forest song.