I've been craving the forest lately. A strange sort of craving, actually: almost drug-like in its promise to deliver me from my worries and gloom, to transport me to a place that feels a bit like a dream. It's like I need my fix. I feel a bit restless until I can get out there again.
We're lucky to live near a trail, and right now the glorious autumn weather makes the walk idyllic. In summer, it's full of fierce mosquitos, and a bizarrely persistent sort of fly. We call them our "personal" flies because they will circle our heads for miles, laughing as we swat at them, helpless to dislodge them. So summers, we walk in town.
And in a few weeks, we'll be in Valencia, Spain for half a year. It's a beautiful city with immersive destinations of its own! But they tend to be cultivated, not wild, and crowded full of other people. I know other people exist, and have every right to enjoy the outdoors with me. But, and I don't mean this in a bad way: Fuck off, other people! You can come back later when I'm not in the mood for a solitary stroll.
All that's to say: these woods walks are precious, and I'm trying to enjoy the hell out of them these next few weeks. And as it happens, there's a bit of a trick to it.
