Wild Places Offer Us Something in Return
Growing up in the Bay Area, nature came with a schedule and a set of keys. For my family, it always took planning, packing and driving.
Nature was weekends and summers, mostly spent at my family’s cabin on Fallen Leaf Lake in the Sierra Nevadas. That cabin, nestled in the pines with water cold enough to steal your breath, is where I first learned to love the quiet, the scent of sun-warmed wood, and the feeling of being tucked into a place that doesn’t ask anything of you but to simply be.
But once we drove back down the mountain, it was back to city life: sidewalks, sirens and stop lights. That pattern followed me through college in Boulder, Colorado then Eugene, Oregon until I ended up in Portland—where I spent nearly a decade.
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