Murder in the forest.

I love trees. I think most people do, without thinking about it. Maybe they are just there, a part of life, taken for granted. And some people don’t take them for granted, like me, who loves them passionately, for their beauty, for the life they give to so many animals, the birds, small tree dwelling animals, even large animals, for food, shelter, and the big picture… trees are the lungs of this planet, producing oxygen which we all need to breathe. Trees also prevent soil erosion. I grow fruit trees on my mini farm to eat, for me and my family, and for my peacocks. But also to gift to my friends and neighbors, and also to sell for money as a cash crop. At farmers markets. Everyone loves fruit. Fresh off the tree, or canned fruit to eat off season, and jam to spread on toast. Who doesn’t love fruit?

But back to the tree….when spring comes, and leaves start budding after the winter dormantcy, and the green leaves unfurls, then flowers come out with the promise of fruit to follow, is so exciting. I walk underneath the trees, touching the trunk, talk softly to them, tell them how beautiful they are while I prune them, fertilize them, spray them with fungicide, pick them, water them, pretty much just love them. It brings me peace.

Then I go off to nearby tall pine forests and Redwood groves, just to walk among them, breathe their smell, hear the rustle of the animals that live in and around them, feel the coolness of their climate that the trees generate. Their shade. Walking in a forest is like entering another world. You are better for doing it. When you enter a forest, you leave your troubles behind. You are at peace.

I live in the Pacific Northwest, Northern California, and travel through Oregon and Washington all the time, as well as Idaho and British Columbia, and all along the freeway you are surrounded by thick forests of tall pines and Redwood trees, spring up into the sky. So magestic, so old, some of them were born when Jesus walked the earth. Every once in a while you see a dead tree standing with its leaves brown and dry, but that’s life. When you are old or sick, you die. It’s sad, but to be expected. When you stop for a walk to stretch your legs, and maybe relieve your bladder ( easier for a man than a woman), you might find a dead tree lying on the forest floor, rotting. Small bushes and vines are growing underneath the trunk, and small rodents like squirrels, or mice have made it their home, as well as foxes and othe larger animals. Life continues.

‘You continue on your road trip, and curve around the mountain, and oh my god! You come across a murder scene that shocks you to your core. It is devastating. The whole mountain side is naked, every tree has been cut down, and lying on the ground. Dead. Machinery, cranes, logging truck are scattered all over the mountain side next to the corpses of the murdered trees, cutting them up, loading them onto the trucks for transport to a mill.

‘Just so the logging company can make a profit. The old growth forest gone forever - 2,000, 1,000, 800, 500 year old trees, oh sure, they will grow back, but in your life time? They will only be young small trees. Not magestic, grand old trees. Clear cutting is a crime, against the life of the tree, the forest, and all the animals that rely on them. That also means us, the people of this earth. If you don’t believe me, go for a walk through a forest, enjoy it, then drive through a clear cut crime scene, feel the shock, and you will know. It’s a crime.