The Quarter-Mile Forest is where I stand, thinking back to the past, gazing back seeing in the forest a younger me, one enchanted by the loneliness that can be found in nature. This is no forest in truth, but simply a grove of eucalyptus trees planted by the Boy Scouts in the 1960s in an effort to help save the earth. It is simply a twenty-acre clump of unused government land at the base of a hill that lies a quarter of a mile from my home. I first wandered among these towering eucalyptuses at the troublesome age of eight. It became my first escape, I came into the forest seeing the undisturbed weeds and dead shrub, all the while thinking this wild haven was just for me, claiming the statement by Emerson as my own- "The landscape belongs to the man who looks at it." Thereafter, I took the walk to the Quarter-Mile Forest whenever the need to sit and ponder the purpose of life and all its complexities arose. It was here that I decided I no longer wanted to be one of the crowd, but would stand out nice and tall as the eucalyptus did at the foot of the hill. It was here that I spent my somewhat selfish youth, thinking only of myself. At the age of twelve, this truth was seen and all that came from the forest began to lose its meaning in my life and my walks to the forest came to end.

Today I return to the forest, the first time in four years, and once again I come to find the answer to life's tragedies. But as I look around, I see my forest is no longer what it once was. I walk down the trail, and this itself is no longer what I knew before. The foxtails no longer crowd my path, for some unknown has weeded and paved the path with gravel. I look to the sky in hope of feeling the stinging rays of sunlight shining into, and straining my eyes. The sunlight of old is no longer. It has been blocked by what to me is a newly formed canopy of interlocking eucalyptus limbs. The trunks of the trees aren't erect, but bent over me. The eucalyptus are crowding down on me, threatening to smash me, it seems. I ignore my instinct to leave and walk on. I look to the side of the trail and my eyes spot ferns lining the gravel spoor.

Stopping where I am, I begin to examine these invasive plants. They are alien, foreign beings of this land. Stepping still closer to these tiny plants, they seem to come to life. The lively bright green fronds scare me; never before has such a color been found here. Looking around, I am annoyed once more, where once stood milkweed, now there lies mustard greens.

I'm baffled by all the change, and in my shock, continue to inspect the ferns. I lift the frond of the fern and there beneath, on the belly of this leaf are the seeds. I am a self-proclaimed environmental conservationist, but as I stand gazing at these seeds, a streak of evil over takes me. An urge to take these seeds and crush then under my feet, so as to prevent further growth of this species nearly overcomes my common sense. I stand looking still at the belly of the leaf, finally dropping the frond. My urge passes and in resignation I accept this new species.

Once more I look to the sky, but see no light. I wonder off the trail carrying the familiar unweeded wild foxtails with me. Exploring and prodding all that surrounds my trees, and overtly inspecting the weeds- hoping for nothing, but expecting something. And I soon come upon lavender and sage. The colors- dull and vibrant greens accompanied by the soft purple- are once more varying from the norm of the dark greens and browns of the Eucalyptus tree. I smile, no longer wanting to eradicate that which is new to me.

I can now see that these new species have enhanced the forest, making it still more true to its name. They brighten this land of no light, making the eucalyptus now seem at fault; they offer me no brightness and fail to lighten my mood. Falling into thought, I sit were I stand, amongst the prickly weeds and crowding trees. I try to bring my feelings to words in my mind, but there is no understanding of what is within me, so I cannot. I have simply become resigned, choosing to look at the biomass around me and only seeing life. Life is wanted by us all, for man is always seeking ways to further extend his life by making advancement in medicine and technology, trying always to resurrect what is nearly lost.

I sit witnessing how the forest lives, uninterrupted and accepting what is. Each organism simply striving to survive, taking life seasonally, while all the while coexisting with other organisms. I look to the sky, and the canopy still blocks the light, but now I see truth. The limbs all reach towards a common resource, or goal- sunlight. They grow together intertwining, supporting one another, in this way light reaches each tree equally.

Everything works together for a common goal of simple survival in this Quarter-Mile Forest. The organisms of this wild haven have chosen to take life seasonally, scattering seed to further its species- calmly and naturally all is done in stages- looking to man, I ask, why does man not handle life's complexities in such a manner? Just as the forest produces, man can succeed. Still more, taking a lesson from the canopy, I see what can be accomplished in simply working together, to as a whole reach individual goals. The forest, while having changed since I last saw it, still serves the same purpose- it dishes out answers to life's perplexities that have seemingly developed much as the forest has.

While in the forest, I think of nothing but what I've just learned. But as I start my walk back home, with the sunlight shining upon me, I begin to feel the worries of life returning to me. For already, just like a Sunday sermon is sometimes forgotten without thought, the lesson that the forest has taught begins to become jumbled with my worrisome thoughts. I reach my driveway and hear from my sister's blasting radio a tune that I now harbor in my heart, for it brings back the lessons of the Quarter-Mile Forest... "Be like the squirrel, girl, be like the squirrel.. gathering acorns. Take all your problems and rip 'em apart."