Woodland Sanctuary

Hello,

I’m so happy you’re here. You may not recognize me yet. That’s all right. I’m new.

A year ago, I was mostly grass and open sky. Most people ignored me. They walked on past without knowing my name.

But not all. Some people imagined what I might become. They planted trees and shrubs and walked my paths before they existed. They pictured shade where there was none and birdsong where there was mostly wind.

I have so much growing to do. My trees are young. My roots are finding their way down, travelling deeper, feeling for something solid, learning where they belong.

I am new, but I’m also very old. To be sure, the grandparents and great grandparents of my trees and shrubs know this place well. They belonged to this land long before roads and houses. Their roots carry old stories.

Be patient with me. Walk alongside me.

Come back on a dewy morning when the grasses glisten.

Come back under grey skies fat with rain.

Come back when the wind is restless and the aspens are talking all at once.

Come back when the autumn turns my edges gold.

Come back when my branches are bare and the moonlight turns the snow blue.

Come back in the spring when I’m muddy and uncertain and my first buds are finding their courage.

Come back with your children, your grandchildren, your beloved dogs, your best friend.

Come back alone. With your grief. With your joy. With your questions that have no answers.

Come back again and again. I will not be the same, and neither will you. Leave some of your wonder with me. I’ll keep it safe until you return.

Fran Kimmel