Leaves rustle in the wind like feathers of a wild bird, the ground of the landscape crunches under my feet. I jump across fallen trees and leap from rock to rock through gorgeous forests that I consider my home. The feeling of wind gliding across my face, whipping my bright, red hair into my eyes, my feet carrying through the tall trees, jumping over obstacles and wandering down paths, I feel most like myself; content.
Growing up in northern Minnesota has surely presented the opportunity of gorgeous green forests in the spring and summer, warm, beautiful colors seemingly painted across the area in the autumn, and glistening dustings of snow, covering forests in the winter. Throughout the majority of my life, there was always a forest to roam and explore, adventure through, and admire. The different sounds of the nature that often surround me are so unique, every day a different rhythm. One couldn’t duplicate this, not even with the latest technology. The feeling of being in the presence of something so spectacular and wondrous calms me, bringing peace to my mind, as opposed to overwhelming me. I feel most like myself, able to be as unique as I am, just as the forest is.
Another reason I feel forests are my home is because they have been a constant throughout my life. Through the many changes that take place in any person’s life at some point in time, I was always able to retreat to a forest and let myself go for a bit, dropping any conflict or hindering emotion or thought at the edge. I’ve always been able to simply forget about civilization and answer the calls of the forests. I can hide away in the trees and wander through the impeccable works of thousands of years’ time. Being able to have a border and tell myself to just let everything go when I have the chance is a healthy tool for me and always a place where I know I can be myself with no judgments. And to me, any place where I am able to do that is a home.