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For me, solitary explorations were my slow-motion equivalent to running away. Time alone always seemed precious, like rediscovering my own voice.<\/strong><\/p>\n Next to the parking lot of our townhouse development, stood a little forest that covered maybe a couple of acres. It was a little gem for a young escapist like me. I learned that other kids called it “The Bush”. The day we moved in, I thought it was part of Central Park, but it wasn’t. It was just a small patch of undeveloped land owned by BC Hydro that bordered the east end of our parking lot.<\/p>\n I was always prone to exploring on my own and I enjoyed quiet moments\u00a0 of isolation, so the first chance I got on a summer Saturday morning, I ventured over to The Bush to check it out.<\/p>\n Walking in off the east edge of our parking lot, there was no fence or curb to demarcate a boundary: the asphalt just blended into dirt and grass and ferns. With leaves and twigs crunching under my sneakers, I saw what looked like a slightly worn path that was more stomped-down than its surroundings. Stepping over a few small, fallen trees, I followed the path with a feeling of excitement and fascination, listening to each bird call, and freezing in my tracks whenever I heard another kid’s voice coming through the trees from the housing co-op next to Park Place.<\/p>\n It must have been many years since I’d walked under a natural canopy. The air was cooler under the shade of all the saplings and evergreen branches and, looking up, I’d marvel at the luminous green leaves filtering the sunlight.<\/p>\n Each breeze brought a different succession of rustlings, whooshes, and stiff creaks. Occasionally, something high up in the trees would snap a little branch, and the brief moment of silence that followed was like the whole forest was holding its breath.<\/p>\n At first, it felt like I was walking in someone elses’s special territory, but after a while of being in it, it began to feel like my own.<\/p>\n For me, solitary explorations were my slow-motion equivalent to running away. Time alone always seemed precious, like rediscovering my own voice. Next to the parking lot of our townhouse development, stood a little forest that covered maybe a couple of acres. It was a little gem for a young escapist like me. I learned that … Continue reading Escaping Into The Trees<\/span> ![\"image_pdf\"](\"http:\/\/ejohnlovebooks.com\/true-life\/wp-content\/plugins\/pdf-print\/images\/pdf.png\" "\\"View")
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