Five blog-years or so after this tree hug began, amidst an increasingly dark political backdrop, the gush of digital media had become almost paralyzing. And so, while Botox-laced pundits spoke over videos of angry-faces, I made my Wilderness Escape to a place where only Chickadees "tweeted" and where "roaming" means hiking.
"Good to go while the going is still good" I thought - reminiscing about the dread-filled Cold War years of my childhood.I had forgotten that tannin from fall leaves turns the river coffee brown - revealing part of the summer's carbon fix lost to the sea and immersing my camera in a sepia world.
It was a shock that I hadn't noticed a boy's reality so framed by television that he would declare the beaver dam "looks just like on the cartoons."
Then, after a few days of being surrounded by trees and their wet fallen leaves, I remembered that land cover determines runoff and flood levels as much as weather.
The transformation had begun.
By the time the woodshed was filled again (with the dead of last season found lying on the forest floor) it was time to return home.
To the trees.
All photos by John Laumer, Flickr