I was told of some recent tree cutting in Mt. Doug and went to check it out for myself.
Despite the news, I was still expecting the openness of the winter forest to have been made dense by all of the spring leaves. My mind had already created the picture of spring in the forest.
At the Shelbourne entrance to Mt. Doug, on the Whittaker trail heading south, trees were lying on the ground. Trunks had been captured for roadside edging. Everywhere I turned, trees lay on the forest floor, their stumps validating the years they’d survived, and others, a red stain marking their fate, awaiting the saw.
I’m stunned. We need to ask questions.