A Warm Welcome

We’re celebrating a milestone! We hosted our first guests for a day trip to the Folktale Forest!

I want to be clear that I am using all the terms in that previous sentence pretty loosely. Our “amenities” currently include one deck, one partially finished deck, and a picnic table that could use a new coat of paint. Our hosting involved hauling the comfy camp chairs into the shadiest spot we could find. And luckily our guests saved the day by bringing ice, since we had used up all our cool water foolishly trying to power through the midday heat. All together, we ate a jar of pickles, fresh sliced fruit and a plate of crackers and cheese, and we had a good old time listening to the birds and dreaming aloud. 

Something about the forest makes me forget imposter syndrome. I look at the trees and I see the Forest. I look at the Forest, and I see the trees. And I have to focus my eyes to concentrate on the junk. 

Right now, we’ve got three trailers and an upside down Jeep on the property that need to go. They’re dangerous, with broken glass surrounding them. And they’re like a sign advertising that no one has cared for this land in a long time. We actually met a former owner of this property—he stopped by to visit when he came through town, and Chris welcomed him. It was a surprise to hear that he’d wanted to run a campground, too. The details of his vision were different, but there is something about Folktale Forest that encourages community invitation. Even though it’s showing signs of neglect, this is a place that will grow with love. 

The tour we shared with our guests felt like one part apology and one part promise. Here, you see it had been a site for illegal dumping, but this part we have cleaned and there’s thimbleberries and salal growing wild. Someday, this area we have cleared will be a cabin with solar electricity and an ADA-accessible pathway and ramp. By next summer, the plants we have been propagating should be in place with rainwater catchment near the new orchards and groves. In two years, over here we’ll have a geodesic dome and space for gatherings. The heat limited our exploration and 38 unkempt acres is a lot of ground to cover. We gestured and made plans, Next time you’re here…

I feel like reciting that whole Maggie Smith poem, Good Bones, both desperate and optimistic. We could make this place beautiful, right? Let’s make this place beautiful. 

Let’s steward the healing.