Into the Sparkling Forest

I just got back from the sparkling forest. It's a special place. I know this and I feel it too. Man, it's the kind of place that sticks with you until the end of time. Let me tell you a little about this place.

The forest is a real place, and I know exactly where it is. It's actually here in Maryland. But the Sparkling Forest is also a state of mind, a combination of the right things at the right time--everything is perfect on a perfect night. And I've been there before, when it wasn't sparkling. You'll see what I mean.

It all started when I drove over to my friend's home. There was work to be done that night, and fun to be had. We had to bury a jug of wine for a party that was coming up. It was this tradition that was started a while ago, and we had to keep the tradition going. So anyway, I got in the car and headed over to my friend's home. And when I got there, everyone was drinking beer on the back porch and getting ready for the mission. The big jug of Carlo Rossi was sitting there on the deck.

Then, after talking and more beers and some snacks, it was time to go: out through the screen door, down the wooden stairs of the deck, then down the green grass hill in the backyard, (but I didn't feel the grass because I was wearing pants for this mission--worried about ticks and ivy). And on the edge of the yard is where the forest began.

We went into the woods, my two friends ahead of me, with headlamps and flashlights to see the way. The journey into the woods was part of the fun. Moving into the night. Tall tulip poplars all around, these huge trees. And the fireflies were blinking. "Watch out for all the shit," said someone. We had crossed over the fence at this point and were now in a forested part of a pasture. But the cow pies were easy to spot, and the poison ivy was not very prevalent, and so the walking was good.

This was a forest wonderland that I knew and loved. But that night was fresh and new. And the risks were real. There were rumors of a bull, a big beast we did not want to meet, especially because we had crossed under the electric fence and so a quick get-a-way might be hard. So we keep listening and looking around. A crazy screech came down from the forest darkness up on the hill. A fox? A cat? A new breed of East Coast jackleope? We didn't know. But we aimed our lights and saw two glowing eyes. It was far away, but I still felt the fine twinge of fear. The stick I was holding in my hands felt good.

But the screeching beast went away. And I knew we'd soon be gone too, after the work was done. But we were in no hurry. Some things can not be hurried. We walked on, until we found the right spot for the wine jug. Then we dug. We had brought shovels. We dug it deep and tied a rope to the glass loop on the jug so that would help with the unearthing.

Then we keep walking, back under the fence, across a small stream--still moving away from our home base. We left the forest and walked out into a huge grassy hillside. And up on the peaceful flanks of this hillside, we all paused to rest and listen and enjoy the night. The reserve beers were opened and we toasted the wine jug mission and the night. And it was on this hillside, looking back at the forest, that I came to see and know the sparkling forest. The long curving wall of trees down in front of us was sparking with the light of thousands of fireflies. The luminous creatures seemed fond of gathering near the outside of the forest, so their light was easy to see, especially against the black backdrop of the forest. And even though the night sky of Maryland was full of city light pollution, which obscured many of the stars, I didn't really mind. We had the sparkling forest.