The forest was waking up. Spring had come, and wildflowers vied for a spot in the sunlight with the new spruces of bush and tree. They had to be fast, because in only a few weeks, abundant foliage will cover the ground in shadows. But of course, I wasn't here for the flowers. Somehow, I never am.
There was treasure in the ground in these parts, or so they said. Looking through the mush of dead leaves and decomposing wood, pushing aside the undergrowth with inconsiderate force, I kept on searching for the gold.
Not real gold of course. I was looking for the metaphorical kind. Which, not being subject to market fluctuations, always seemed the safer investment to me.