I love the monteverde. It reminds me of the Rackham illustrations in my childhood storybooks. The rays of sunlight pierce the darkness and mist, illuminating the twisted trunks and branches, and the shaddows suggest strange inhabitants. On the side of the gullies, the roots stretch out to trip you up. Blackbirds click, tits purr and a myriad of other little birds chirp and chatter. You may even see a woodcock, or a great buzzard may come near to warn you away from her nest. The air is pungent with leaf-mould and decaying wood, or wild garlic if you tread on it. Fungi, mostly inedible or even poisonous, come up singly or in armies or make fairy rings around tree stumps. There are few animals in the evergreen forest, except for the odd feral cat and an occasional rabbit.
If you do venture into it, though, be very sure of your sense of orientation. The forest undergrowth hides the lie of the slopes, gullies and deep ravines. I once found a young German couple hopelessly lost, soaking wet and shivering like frightened kittens in their light clothing. It was the middle of winter and they were more than three thousand feet up. They might not have made it to safety.
Heath Trees and Forget-me-nots in the evergreen forest |
Una vez más, una belleza. Reconozco el lugar.
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