The moss drapes the trees, rocks and bushes like a dark spell from yesteryear. Donning a warm cap, I make my way into the enchanted forest, no sound except the distant call of ocean birds. Tread lightly down the Hobbit trail……

Is it the earth growing exponentially, or myself becoming smaller the deeper I go? Strange magic here in the twisted branches and diminishing light.

Seashells are juxtaposed into unnatural shapes, perhaps a hidden message. I ponder the meaning before carrying on down into the earth. The sound of the ocean is closer now, much louder than before…..

The foreboding strangeness of the Hobbit trail is to hide the pure beauty awaiting those that brave it’s mysticism. The truth is in the sand, on the high crag rocks and in the ocean waves of winter.


Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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