Today I went exploring.  Miles driven down dirt roads.  Dodging potholes big enough to swallow a small car while taking in the beauty of the forest.

     Most of my trips I have specific areas in mind that I want to photograph.  Those areas have grown stale.  That creates a stagnation in my images. 

     I took a few photos as records of what the area has to offer.  I took a short hike and found a small mountain stream.  Water level was low, but there is evidence that it does have a decent flow, probably in the spring.

      Whether or not you are a photographer taking a day to explore something new is a good thing.  It serves to re-energize your mind and body.  You come away refreshed.

     I now have several new places to hike and discover over the next year.

     Far below me at the bottom of the ravine I can hear the sound of a stream.  The day is warm, but the bubbling sounds of the water gives the illusion of coolness.  What is it, I wonder, about the sound of water that draws me in and give me peace?  Does anyone else experience that feeling:

     The forest is dotted with large stumps.  Reminders of when it was last logged.  I stop to stare in awe of their size

     I am a slow hiker.  Every few feet it seems I need to stop, look and listen to the forest.  I haven't been on this trail in a couple of years.  The recently logged areas that were replanted are showing improvement.  Two years ago  the new trees were showing a lot of new growth turned brown.  This year I see a lot of new growth that is tender and green.  The little trees have grown taller.  This is promising.

     I don't care for hiking through the logged areas.  The summer sun beats down with nothing to provide shade.  I am surrounded by old gray stumps.  This year the foxglove, an exotic species,  have taken hold in the logged areas.  I am a strong supported of protecting our native plants.  But the foxglove are too pretty to not enjoy today.

     The size of the stumps is amazing.  My children will see few trees today that are allowed to live to become the giants that were common in my childhood.  They will be left with stumps serving as reminders.