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In these later years I’ve always felt myself to be a mountain girl. Which is why, even though the beauty here is otherworldly and unique, I’ve had a challenging time adapting to living in the redwoods. I’m here because I’m still a California resident and college is cheaper, I’m here because the university here has one of the best forestry programs in the country, and I’m here because I’m in love and creating a life with a special human. I still am hoping to strive to find a balance between the places I want to be in my heart. I’m also hoping that when I’m done with school and my partners ties with California have lessened a bit that I can convince him to at least part of the year, get lost in the great American west with me.

All this being said there is a beautiful and raw glory to this place. The trees rise above you and they are so ancient. Sitting beneath them you can almost feel them tell the stories of the past. Sitting beneath them I feel protected from the outside world. So silent but a strong silence.

And it’s wet here. It’s been a wet winter but apart from that it’s always wet here. The inland heat draws the fog from the ocean so even in the summer the mornings are shrouded in gray mist. Which means everything grows here. There’s so much green from ferns to moss. The rains have lessened and released an explosion in colorful life.

I went for a hike along the Headwaters reserve yesterday and dotted among the greenery was yellow buttercups, blue for-get-me-nots, purple iris’, little white flowers of the Star of Solomon. The red leaves of new growth on wild huckleberries bursting forth. It was a song of spring. I felt relieved to be outside and to feel the sunshine on my face. Seeing all the life made me feel a less homesick for the mountains and a new love for my current home. As I’ve always felt, it’s the little things that make up a whole.