It's very warm, filled with overstuffed furniture, all in greens and blues and creams and greys. There are many, many books, none of which I have read, but all of which are well-worn, with broken spines. There is very soft lighting, with many lovely lamps. the floor is wood, with a few rugs scattered about.
There are many many trees...thick foliage so that I cannot see what is ahead. It is dark, but not black...there is soft sunlight filtering through the trees, making it very non-threatening, but slightly scary.
There is no path per se, but a few open areas with trees between them. I have to look through the trees in order to see the next open area, but I clearly can, and it is relatively easy to move through the trees to the next open area. All of the areas are blanketed with a thick blanket of fresh green pine needles, deadening all sound, and making it warm.
It is a stream, almost a river, that is coming down from a higher mountain. It is filled with rocks, and fish, and has areas where it is deep, and areas where it is shallow. One could navigate the rocks to cross the stream, but it would take some thought and planning. There are deer drinking from the stream, and they look at me curiously.
It is a wooden cup, crudely fashioned from a tree limb. It is smooth, and well-worn, and fits comfortably in one's hand. Someone will miss it.
it is a wooden key and seems to belong to the front door of a small wooden cabin. It is large, and smoothly worn, but fashioned with care. It is simple, but was not easily created.