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As far back as I can remember, I was told our Earth was green and blue.  A giant marble, hanging in space, a haven of life, air and water.  A carefully calibrated ecosystem that was intelligent, with an inherent ability for adaptation and metamorphosis to support life throughout eons of ecological changes. Green with vegetation, plants and trees and blue with water; oceans, lakes and stream.  A planet that is beautiful and diverse.  

One of her greatest attributes; the Boreal Forest, or Taiga, as it’s known in other parts of the world, covering 6.6 million square miles, a belt of thick, ancient growth over the Northern most regions of the Earth. The Boreal feeds the Earth’s atmosphere and crust, creating a healthy environment for life. All of our forests make our Earth beautiful, clean  and sustain life.  Our unique ecosystems of Earth teem with life and living creatures continue to thrive and evolve. 

Forests were a big part of my youth. My family often went camping  in the Sierra Mountains, which runs almost the full length of California. One of our favorite spots was Yreka. Yreka was in the heart of the mountain range and came to life during the Gold Rush.  On Friday afternoons, we would head out via the interstate, leaving the city.  As we drove away from civilization the road became a two lane highway and  the scenery changed.  The trees became taller and the forest more dense. The trunks, a rich shade of brown covered in soft bark, large limbs shooting out with dark green sprays of spiky needles.  It became quieter and sounds were muted and  hushed, as if in a huge cathedral.  Once we arrived to the campground, there would usually be other campers already arrived and setting up. Small groups of people of all ages, moving about, setting up camping gear to make their camping trips fun and comfortable. We drove to our site and tumbled out of our van into a potent atmospheric elixir, that the huge old trees were secreting from their limbs and sprays of needles. My first breath would fill my airways and lungs with minerals and elements that the huge trees were emitting.  The trees were mostly redwoods and pines and over a hundred feet tall.  When I looked up, I could see their tops far away, touching tiny bits of blue sky.  

The giants stood quietly in place.  Comfortable and loving, making life.  The trees were safe in this protected forest where no man was allowed to rip away life.  Birds flew among the branches. Blue Jays, owls and hawks perched and watched as we humans set up our equipment.  We moved about  purposely setting out aluminum lawn chairs in a circle.  Coleman lanterns to be lit later in the night for playing games and singing songs. Once we were finished with out tasks, we  became more like the trees.  Sitting in one place, communing, talking, becoming quieter and more reverent. As the sun went down we would sit around the campfire gazing  into the flames and dreaming. The heady aroma of wood smoke drifting over our heads and into the branches of the giants hovering over us.  Time was suspended deep in the woods. As each day passed we became quieter, more thoughtful and free.  The hooks and chains of civilization lost their grip. The chains slipping away, with a swooshing sound effect, sliding over the ground cover made of old tree bark, branches, needles, bird droppings and insect casings.  The nights were restful and I would sleep deep and long in our camper.  Once the sun began it’s descent, the air would become crisp, fresh and cold.  After dinner cooked over the fire, I couldn’t wait to get into bed. To snuggle down into my flannel sleeping bag and plunge backward into a deep and mindless sleep. Then waking up with first light. The warm glow of sunshine hitting the canvas sides of our tent trailer and birds calling. 

I found peace in something greater than myself in the mountain forest. Life that had existed well before my kind and was tolerant of human kind. Always  giving back,  like a mother, our Mother Earth.