We drove down County Road X through the woods of Alabama. The county had never bothered to pave anywhere this remote so the journey was rough and the rocks cracked under the tires as we headed along the shaded path. Reaching the crest of a hill we followed a fork in the road to reach our lodge. The path stopped before a set of large black gates. The top of the gate was detailed in the shape of a deer head fitted with large red glass eyes and reminded me of something you might see at Malfoy manor. It was strange to think that just hours before I had been moving through the city of Chicago, rushing past hundreds of people going about their business. And now, here I was in the middle of nowhere in a state most Chicagoans look on with fear and disdain. And to be fair, some of the stereotypes were true. As we moved through the gate and into the large cabin we would be staying, we found countless indication that this was a place for hunters and that we, us city folk, were clearly out of place.

While I was there to visit some distant relatives, I made sure to find time to escape and venture on my own through the many acres of woods that made up the property. For someone used to the incessant racket of city noise, the absence of it was unsettling at first. Though the ability to be completely surrounded by nature was refreshing and much needed. At home in the city I often can only look at the moon through a window, or perhaps in a city park. It is rare that I get to experience nature alone. But here, in the woods of Alabama it seemed that everything was different.

As the sun set I made my way to a small pond deep in a valley. The trees down by the river were magnificent, and the riotous colors shone bright through the waters reflection. As I walked towards the water's edge it became clear that this was a place not owned by people, but by the animals and spirits of the woods.