Some blogs have titles, some don’t. Later, I may give this one a title that reflects specific projects I’m working on. Or not. For now, at least, this will just be… My blog.
But if I did have to pick a title now, maybe I’d choose The Forest Around Us. Kind of like Rachel Carson’s The Sea Around Us, only with seas of trees. And I could write of looking into the forest and seeing more than the trees.
Or, if I weren’t trying to be so rational and scientific, I could make up stories about the forest I see outside my window right now. If the forest around us could talk… It would indeed tell quite a story. But the story wouldn’t be as long as you might think. Those tallest white pines on the island across the bay? The one with the eagle nest, and the others clustered right next to it? I’m pretty sure they’re no more than about 150 years old. Here’s how I know.
At most, they would have been mere saplings during those few short years when all of northern Wisconsin was logged off and turned into one giant clearcut. If they even existed yet, they were too small to bother cutting.
If they’d been even a decade or two older, they’d be gone. No question about it. Growing right at the edge of the river that would carry them to downstream sawmills, trees like these would have been felled first. So that pretty much narrows it down.
Who knows? When the loggers arrived, maybe those pines were already about the size of your average Christmas tree. Or maybe they were still just a twinkle in some pinecone’s eye.
Still, they had to start somewhere. And so does this blog.
