Living in the forest is as much a part of our lives and who we are and who we become, as is living in a city. The way people talk about (only in the movies) New York being more than just a city, is how I feel about this forest of ours.
She's a towering wonderment.
Sometimes secluding us (five trees fell onto our driveway during the January storms, meaning we couldn't get out. Hmmm - no pictures, what was I thinking!).
And yet, we are nothing to do with it at all.
These trees. This forest has been here long before us, and will be here long after us.
The tree that grows majestically beside our home is older than me, as old as my dad, but will go on living for another century if it is left alone.
These trees are babies compared to how big they can grow. They'll become fat giant towers.
I stand in my garden and look all about. Up and up and up. And there one only has to look and be to breathe again. The sun comes out and the birds sing and sing to their hearts content. Or when it rains and rains and everything grows and grows in this tropical climate.
It doesn't matter what I do today. For tomorrow this will still be here, reminding me to stand tall and breathe deep.