"Sometimes When I Wander" (Image & Text Copyright Wylddane Productions, LLC)
Sometimes, I like to wander.
Not with a destination in mind, but with a desire--
a quiet pull in my chest that says: go.
So I hop into my trusty car, cue up songs that know my heart, and take the roads less traveled—those winding backroads that seem to lead nowhere, and yet always bring me closer to something true.
It’s on these spontaneous pilgrimages that I find myself driving through dappled sunlight, windows down, the wind tousling my thoughts. I pass birch stands and meadows, glimpses of old barns leaning like elders with stories to tell. And then, suddenly, a turn I’ve never taken before reveals a hidden lake—still, deep blue, wrapped in a shawl of evergreens. Its surface holds the sky like a mirror, and in its reflection, I see more than trees. I see the quiet part of myself I sometimes forget.
I stop the car. I step out.
The world hushes.
Birdsong rises.
A deer watches from the edge of the forest, still as a prayer. Somewhere nearby, a raccoon scuttles through brush, and the breeze carries the earthy scent of pine and moss. In this sacred stillness, the noise of the world fades, and I remember how to be.
These places—the unnamed ponds, the unexpected rivers, the paths where no one walks—are not just landscapes. They are teachers. They remind me that I am part of something grand and generous. They ask nothing of me but presence. And in return, they offer belonging.
When I wander like this, I’m not lost. I’m found.
Because in the hush between miles, in the mirror of a lake no map could have shown me,
I don’t just discover nature.
I discover myself.
~Wylddane
Not with a destination in mind, but with a desire--
a quiet pull in my chest that says: go.
So I hop into my trusty car, cue up songs that know my heart, and take the roads less traveled—those winding backroads that seem to lead nowhere, and yet always bring me closer to something true.
It’s on these spontaneous pilgrimages that I find myself driving through dappled sunlight, windows down, the wind tousling my thoughts. I pass birch stands and meadows, glimpses of old barns leaning like elders with stories to tell. And then, suddenly, a turn I’ve never taken before reveals a hidden lake—still, deep blue, wrapped in a shawl of evergreens. Its surface holds the sky like a mirror, and in its reflection, I see more than trees. I see the quiet part of myself I sometimes forget.
I stop the car. I step out.
The world hushes.
Birdsong rises.
A deer watches from the edge of the forest, still as a prayer. Somewhere nearby, a raccoon scuttles through brush, and the breeze carries the earthy scent of pine and moss. In this sacred stillness, the noise of the world fades, and I remember how to be.
These places—the unnamed ponds, the unexpected rivers, the paths where no one walks—are not just landscapes. They are teachers. They remind me that I am part of something grand and generous. They ask nothing of me but presence. And in return, they offer belonging.
When I wander like this, I’m not lost. I’m found.
Because in the hush between miles, in the mirror of a lake no map could have shown me,
I don’t just discover nature.
I discover myself.
~Wylddane
RSS Feed