Field Journal Entry #61 — “Ash Beneath My Boots”

The Buried Grove always feels like walking through time layered on time.

Today I followed a slope where last season’s rains had carved a shallow cut through the hillside. Beneath the topsoil was a band of volcanic ash — pale, powdery, unmistakable. The same ash that once buried an entire forest and preserved it in stone.

I knelt and brushed away the loose sediment. A section of petrified root emerged, twisting like a frozen river. The minerals had captured every curve.

I sat there longer than I meant to. Not studying — just appreciating the quiet persistence of things that refuse to disappear.

The Grove teaches patience. And gratitude.