Where bare trees reveal their secret faces

I am not a hiker, which is why I surprised myself when I said yes to a new friend who asked me to go on an easy hike with her to Fitzgerald Falls, located off Lakes Road in Greenwood Lake, NY. The trail felt quiet in that particular winter way – bare trees, crisp air and the earthy scent of leaves that had fallen weeks earlier but still blanketed the ground in shades of copper and rust.

An incline warmed me immediately. Not so steep that I felt I needed to channel a rock climber, but enough to feel it in my calves. The dry leaves shifted under my sneakers with a papery crunch, revealing patches of dark soil and roots asleep for the winter. The rocks along the path were mottled with thin patches of ice where the sun had not yet reached.

I heard the falls before I saw them, the low, steady white noise coming from up ahead. I found the waterfall partially frozen, the cold working its way in layer by layer. A thin sheet of ice clung to one side of the rock face while water slipped gently down the center, catching the sunlight. Icicles framed a ledge above, long and clear.

Nearby, a clearing, ringed by bare trees. One tree’s bark folded into deep vertical ridges that formed what looked like a long, stern face. Another, with a gaping mouth, was swallowing as much fresh air as it could. A third trunk grabbed my attention, its bark shaped into deep shadowed hollows that formed the suggestion of a tired, watchful face. One “eye” (a rounded dark knot) sat higher than the other, while the lower one angled sharply, giving it a world-weary, almost skeptical expression. Below, a long, dark, split curved like a downturned mouth. I paused with this ancient ent for a moment. Had it relocated from Middle-earth for a much-deserved rest?

For someone who doesn’t like to hike, this was enjoyable and not too much exertion. The winter bareness revealed details I would have missed had I stayed inside in the warmth – small wonders hidden in the simplicity of the season.