Into the Enchanted Woods: A Glimpse of Hope

Below our house lies a small forest, which I call the enchanted woods. Flowing through it is a small stream. The forest and the stream are not visible from the road, and when you're down there, you feel a bit secluded from the outside world. Right now, it's a lush green area surrounded by wood anemones. I love wood anemones. They are a testimony to the time that lies ahead of us. They poke their heads out like beacons of hope, promising a time when life will be a little simpler and more manageable than the tough winter we've left behind. It almost brings tears to my eyes just to write about it because I've been so hungry for light and warmth for so many months. It's as if my soul has longed for a simpler time. Even the children said to me when the last snowfall arrived a few weeks ago: "I'm tired of this, Mom. I want spring now. I want the snow to melt." And for children who love playing in the snow, I saw it as a sign that the winter and the huge amounts of snow had been especially tough this year. But now we're finally here. It feels like we're standing at a finish line and a starting line at the same time. Imagine that we're finally going to embrace the warm weather. We set the table with wood anemones and immerse ourselves in hope for a happier time. And I get to lead the chubby little hands through the enchanted woods, while we witness beavers and martens, listen to bird songs, and watch ants searching for materials for their anthill. In the midst of the little forest thicket, I feel peace.