In Oregon, we call it the “Forest.” Why? I don’t know. Roof, Ruff, Tomayto, Tomahto, and hey, who could argue with Bill Bryson who wrote a most enjoyable book about a hike he took on the Appalachian Trail titled, A Walk in the Woods.
Forest Park: America’s largest forested city trail system.
That was the beginning of a conversation I was having with an outdoorsy gal I met just a week before to find out if she was really who she said she was. My plan? Yep, you guessed it. Take the lady on a “walk in the woods,” and show her a real forest. Not one of those three generations of renewable cedars in her home country, but rather an “old growth” forest of the Oregon variety.
“Seth, what is that up there?” Andrea asked as she pointed up to the bright blue between the stands of old growth Doug Firs.
“I’m not sure,” I replied.
It was true. I really had a tough time processing what we were both staring at. Then suddenly it occurred to me.
“Tree Sitters,” I said.
“What?”
“They are called ‘Tree Sitters,’ activists who climb the trees and build camp platforms. They live in the trees to keep the loggers from cutting them down.”
“Really?”
Andrea’s question didn’t sound like she was interested in discovering the story behind the person living 125 feet above the ground. I could tell by her tone that she’d never considered that a person could be so committed to save a tree. I didn’t respond to her question.
We just kept walking, up the path through the forest breathing in the fresh air. Both of us with our heads turned up gazing in wonder.
By Gregory S. Lamb, author of the novels, The People In Between: A Cyprus Odyssey, and A Dangerous Element. Readers of this blog are encouraged to comment on all postings, and more importantly, participate by posting links to their own form of weekly Flash Fiction.
