I live in a forest my parents planted when I was a child. It’s not too late for you to grow one too | Jessie Cole
Sometimes a branch grows so low and bushy that it blocks access to my room. I diligently cut it backMore summer essentialsIn the late 1970s when my parents built the house I still live in, there was no forest. The property was a disused cow pasture, full of scrappy grass and weeds. My parents began planting trees before they began the house build, and now – in my lifespan, 47 years – it has grown into a forest. When I was a child we called my parent’s plantings “the garden”, implying a place managed by us. Cultivated, civilised. Somewhere along the way we renamed it “the forest”. A self-managed ecosystem we occasionally impinged upon – cutting back, cleaning up debris – but only when it made incursions into our actual house.Sign up for a weekly email featuring our best reads Continue reading...
Sometimes a branch grows so low and bushy that it blocks access to my room. I diligently cut it back
In the late 1970s when my parents built the house I still live in, there was no forest. The property was a disused cow pasture, full of scrappy grass and weeds. My parents began planting trees before they began the house build, and now – in my lifespan, 47 years – it has grown into a forest. When I was a child we called my parent’s plantings “the garden”, implying a place managed by us. Cultivated, civilised. Somewhere along the way we renamed it “the forest”. A self-managed ecosystem we occasionally impinged upon – cutting back, cleaning up debris – but only when it made incursions into our actual house.
Sign up for a weekly email featuring our best reads Continue reading...
