Afternoon Forrest

A gentle breeze blows through the pines, a soft brushing sound, as their needles hit one another. Soft thuds against the ground as my feet carry me to another part of the forest. Song birds sing their songs happily while they flutter about. The soft rushing of a nearby brook reaches my ears. Joining in the melody of song birds and wind.1

The light filters down through the trees and spots of light hit the mossy forest floor. Gentle greens and browns, darker shades of colors when they are hidden in shadow. All sorts of foliage grows here, summer flowers, ferns, and even small little mushrooms growing under the shade of a tree or underneath a fallen log.2

The sun warmly greets me as I step into a clearing, the last of the trees brushes against my arm, leaving faint red lines, Long strands of grass brush against my knees, tickling and leaving goose bumps. Little rocks move and shift beneath each of my steps.3

Intermingling with each other making one scent that appeals. Individually I can sort them each a distinct and individual smell. The calming scent of pine, thee slight earthy smell of a forest, the breeze carries a trace of summer flowers, them there is the almost potent smell of skunk, horrible on its own but with the others, it becomes almost enjoyable.4