Being a small-town girl from Hibbing, Minnesota, I grew up appreciating and respecting nature and found great comfort in it. As a child, I spent most of my free time climbing the dirty, iron-ore hills of Pill Hill, finding joy and pride when I would finally reach the top and glance upon the endless acres of forest that just pleaded to be explored. I spent ten years of my life exploring that forest and never ran across a dull moment. It seemed like the trees and the animals were ever-changing and I never had the same adventure twice. I loved every single minute of it.
I have so many memories tied to the greener than green leaves and the tall golden grasses that grow along the twisting dirt paths of the friendly and inviting forest. Such memories include the first time that I ever saw a groundhog and ran for my life because I thought it was going to eat me (come on, I was only seven and I swear it was the size of a miniature horse). Also, the endless times I lost my thoughts in my journal as my body took in the sounds and smells of the forest, and the countless times I shed my tears with nothing but the familiar trees and plants to comfort me (which always seemed to be enough).
To me the forest was my home away from home; my never-ending patch of paradise. I felt like I could go there to escape from the world and just be myself. There was so much to take in! It was so beautiful, it made me feel safe, secure and happy. I felt like I could release all of my burdens on the magnificent birches and maples. It seemed as if the trees became old and brittle with my secrets and deepest thoughts, but it always felt like they were willing to bear more, which was a great comfort. The winding paths and playful adventures became a part of my everyday life and will continue to do so for the rest of my days. Everyone should have their little patch of paradise. I sure found mine. Have you found yours?
