Mossy paths in an old forest

I like this area a lot. Paths that lead to it aren't very obvious nor readily inviting. And there's a reason: fallen trees, in various stages of decay, bar the passage; soggy, muddy ground sucks your boots in where rivulets run down to feed the main stream at the bottom of the vale; tall grasses mask the terrain, especially in summer, exacting extra caution in picking one's way... But the reward is an unusual exhilaration derived from being immersed in nature, in its small and huge forms, in its continuous transmutation. You almost feel unseen eyes watching your steps with unfathomable patience, moored in experience against which your own seems like an infant's barely out of the mother's womb.

Done