Into the Woods

by Louisa Handscombe

Today, to expend some energy on a cold, wet, grey and miserable December day, I went for a walk in the woods with my children. As dusk drew on, we headed for home along the muddy path. The bare trees arched over our heads, with branches like arms with twigs for fingers ready to close around us, and in the half-light the crows cawed as the wind moaned eerily. A disturbing thought flickered through my mind – what if we were stuck here for the night? What if we got lost? What dangers would we face? How would I protect my children? What would I discover about my physical and psychological reserve when faced with unseen and unknown threats?

People from all times and places have, by necessity, faced danger and themselves in the woods. This observation is reflected in our fairy tales and folk lore, from ancient to modern: Little Red Riding Hood, Hansel and Gretel, Bilbo Baggins, Heather and co in The Blair Witch Project. The woods are a symbol of the dark and perils unknown.

Like all fairy tales, these stories tell us eternal truths about the human condition. In all of them, the protagonists have a quest which necessitates a journey through the woods. To get the basket of food to Grandmother, or to assist dwarf allies, or to excel at a film-making assignment, they brace themselves and go into the woods on their adventure.

And the outcome? Wounds both physical and psychological, encounters with wolves, witches, spiders of Mirkwood, parental abandonment, as well as a little more self-insight and understanding of the ways of the world. If things go well, though, the adventure could end up with a whole dragon’s cave full of treasure as a bonus. And to live life to the full, even on a horrible December afternoon, sometimes, you have to go into the woods.

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