On the day that I visited my spot for the second time, the weather was temperate and sunny. I sat in the middle of my spot on the bank of the small stream that runs through the clearing. As I sat, I noticed the things around me. The ground was cool, wet moss under me. I could hear the wind rustling through the dead leaves still clinging to the trees, as well as the faint sound of birds singing somewhere else in the forest. The leaves on the ground rustled as squirrels ran through them. Every so often, a strong gust of wind blows through the leaves, swirling and rustling them. On my left and behind me, I can see the sun shining through the now bare branches of Norway Maple and American Beech trees. In front of me, the still green branches of Eastern Hemlock and Eastern White Pine block most of the light, leaving the area in shadow. The ground almost seems to glow from the bright yellow leaves of the Norway Maples that are scattered around the clearing. After sitting there for a while, I now feel more connected to the forest and to my spot. As I go to leave, I notice that many more of the leaves are gone from the trees. More light is shining through the branches with no leaves to block it. The leaf litter on the ground is much thicker. Little else has changed and the spot feels much the same.
