August was here and with it a wondrous silence. The season for blueberries, lingon berries and chanterelles.
There are few things so peaceful to search for berries and mushrooms in the sparse pine forest in and close by the mire. The only sound I hear is the buzzing flies, cranes calling and silent chirpings by the newly out flewn nestlings. The stillness is so strong that I almost can’t speak in fear of disturbing the peace. There is always this special tranquillity of August which I suddenly notice, as if by turning the page of the almanac a new theme is given, that of fruit and preparation.
While I am sitting there in midst of the blue- and lingonberry sprigs gathering blue and red sunshine under the peaceful whisper of the pines, the young birds of marsh, blue, and great tit are tentatively discovering their newly found environment.
My dogs too get in another mood when I start picking berries. From being running with the bicycle in a brisk mood, they settle down, sniff a little, make a comfortable sleeping place in the sprigs and not just sleep, but rest in a way that shows how well suited they are amidst the natural beauty.
I realise then that through them I get a little taste of sensing the situation with a precence of mind being both resting and attentive. Toby could lie there as if in deep sleep and suddenly he snaps after a fly on his nose. He could quickly lift his head directing his attention towards something he has perceived, which is beyond my senses.
While enjoying the lovely sound and view of boxes full of red lingonberries the ambience of the forest is so secretive and absorbing that it is not without an effort I leave, almost fearing that the road into this wondrous world will be lost next time I come.