When I think about my childhood, the time before memories are very clear, I think of trees. I think that many of us in the Pacific Northwest are aware of its beauty, but we are only aware of how truly green it is when we leave and return. Each time I have left, the sense of verdant abundance upon returning is powerful. These days, I also think about how fragile this green world has become. I am simultaneously consoled by my forest memories and anxious for the future. It is a strange paradox. When I think of my early memories of trees, in my mind’s eye, I can see the filtered light that makes its way through the evergreen branches. It is not a clear picture, but a murky, glowing, amorphous image and it always brings me peace.