top of page

Deschutes Forest

Writer's picture: M.TurnipM.Turnip

Updated: Jan 28

That feeling of the first morning sun coming through a chilly forest and the warming scent of ponderosa needles, the sounds of the wasps and bees waking up.
That feeling of the first morning sun coming through a chilly forest and the warming scent of ponderosa needles, the sounds of the wasps and bees waking up.

The summer of 2023 was an incredibly transitional one. Upon waking most mornings, I felt a bit lost and restless. I would drive to the woods at dawn, sit, breathe, and feel the sun's warming presence on my face. I would sometimes take some coffee and occasionally a breakfast sandwich.

My special spot was about fifteen minutes from where the road turned to gravel, just far enough away from the early-morning mountain bike enthusiasts and waterfall chasers.

Being enveloped in this natural area was essential for my mental and emotional survival that summer. A few months after moving out of town, I returned to my little haven and found the large ponderosas I had sat beneath had been logged—great felled giants now resting on the forest floor.

It seemed very poignant, in that moment, in the tides of change. A place of meditation, now drastically transformed.

I said a sad goodbye to the forest that calmed me during an unpredictable time. Knowing though-- the ponderosas are quick to succeed in their native soils, sheltered while saplings in the manzanita, as they push forth and continue on towards the sun.

1 view0 comments

Recent Posts

See All
Waves

Waves

Comments


© 2024 by Jenn Culp / M.Turnip Art artist

Rocky Mountains

  • Instagram - White Circle
bottom of page