In good company, our redwood friends sprout up on all sides. The wizardry elders and youngsters alike thrive off a shared root system. I’ve a hunch that the ideals of the old hippy communes originated in these forest.
Thick with dried and flattened needles, lush with wood sorrel, the floor of a redwood forest is the most comfortable place to ever have cradled my body for a night of dreams. So we slept. Then, well rested and content in every way but vertically we moseyed.
Neldör sized up the giants much like he sizes up every other potentially climbable object he comes across, only with more wonder. This was the first time that Neldör of the East had been to the Forest Moon of Endor, or California. Even after being surrounded by Redwoods for days, the hard strike of awe doesn’t fade. Scanning from trunk to canopy, testing out a finger-jam here and a foot hold there, he ascends. At times I would look away and a moment later he had climbed out of my line of sight.
This interaction with nature was one that I would not have imaged, at least not like this. Barefoot, un-aided and unprotected, it’s a dance. A healthy tree will happily hold the weight of a human, so Neldör climbed with the joy of child playing. Uninhibited and pure. There was nothing of human origin that could have made it better.