White Mountain peace

New York City is fun. Right up until I want woods around me. Yes there's Central Park, but I don't feel as secure there as on a trail in the White Mountains with bears in the neighborhood. The soul needs peace once in a while, and there is little better than finding a miniature waterfall in a tiny stream deep in the woods, and "watching a leaf glide all the way down out of view." It constantly surprises me when I talk with someone even in North Conway who "isn't a hiker", as though the moving of one foot after the other is the only joy to the activity. Each time a trail is climbed is a new experience. And a new bit of life.