I lace up my trekking boots, grab my walking stick, and give a quick whistle to the dog. He’s instantly in front of me, eagerly awaiting our walk in the forest.
As we enter the tree line at the edge of the clearing, I gaze down at the uneven terrain. The path here is barely discernible. It’s cluttered with stones, tangled roots, a carpet of fallen leaves, and soft, slightly frozen moss.
I take each step deliberately, moving cautiously as I find my rhythm.
The dog races ahead, his nose glued to the ground, enthralled by some elusive scent. I catch glimpses of him through the trees, darting in and out of view, his tail wagging vigorously as he tirelessly tries to recover the scent he momentarily lost.
As we ascend the ridge, the trees begin to space out, their separation increasing with the steepening slope. With every step, we’re climbing about 200 meters. At the ridge’s peak, the view of the lake unfolds and the vista stretches into the distance.
We come to a stop, and the sun emerges from behind the clouds. I gaze upward, surrounded by a circle of swaying trees. Their leaves rustle gently in the mild breeze.
This moment offers a fresh perspective on the ever-changing forest. It’s the same familiar woodland, yet from here, it appears transformed.