Fire Bow

The light was harsh in the forest, white and intense, the contrast set too high; although taken in a semi shaded dell, resting against a moss covered truck, the sun warmed through you and the gentle breeze, itself softly warm, breathed fresh life into the land.  No trails in the sky, just pure blue, less noise, the impact of human activity reduced, if only for a short while nature has a degree of respite. The honey pots I passed were thronged with the less adventurous enjoying a sanitized, post card view of the forest; and why not, it's just not for me, the less walked path, the quiet dell or secret grove, that's where I gravitate too.  New life is burgeoning, whether tadpoles developing or the small fry filling the brooks, all parts of the forest are blooming.  It's easy to become absorbed, lost in time and place, unaware for a moment of the wider world outside that moment; waking from your absorption, just slightly disorientated and taken a back.  At the base of an Oak, tucked away, I found the partial remains of a fire bow set I made last spring; if the remains are still serviceable I'll have a go next time I'm this way.  Around the forest, squirreled away, I've secreted all manner of useful materials.