In-Class: The Forrest

The Redwood trees here just might be poking holes in the clouds that would otherwise be drifting by, but instead are pinned down by spears of pines. These pines coat the floor of the forrest along with the paved pathway that once could be seen below it. The pavement winds casually between the trees, but some of the most aged trees lifted up enough root to let the pavement wind seemingly through the wood as it stands - exposing dozens upon hundreds of rings showing age. Massive and hauntingly vacant holes in the sides of these trees were once home to any imaginable woodland creature, but now they only have space to call their home.

The pavement that winds through the otherwise thick foliage appears to have been abused by millions of feet, wheels, tires, and raindrops. The path it takes seems too long and too far gone. The twists and turns it makes don't appear to have a clear end destination in mind. "Scenic Route" was the name it was given, demeaning its purpose to one of just wandering or crime.

When all that is organic is all that is on the ground, a shiny car key stands out more than it would in any other place. There wasn't a car here at this point in time, and the car probably isn't in any sort of reasonable radius to the key. This key wasn't here on purpose. This key was left behind. The only other man-made sign of life tto be found within yelling distance from this key was a decrepit plastic cup. This cup was the red kind, white inside, bumps all around to ease the grip. This was the kind of cup you don't just use with dinner. It was the kind of cup you find at a bad party and when you're done drinking, you play with it enough to break it, and then throw it away: a similar fate to the one this cup found.

There was one tree in particular that had finally served this forrest long enough. It gave up its reign in the San Francisco skyline, and laid itself down right across the pavement path it had bonded with the past few years. Perhaps it just wanted to give itself to the land, or maybe it was a warning to the next visitors to the path who left behind a new kind of home. Trees and cars don't seem to agree on much, especially when push comes to shove. The self-sacrificing tree had met its match with the last car to wind down the path, perhaps too quicky. The car came to a forceful stop at the same place where the tree had given up just hours before. The ones responsible for the car driving were gone, but the now foregone vehicle had become a new home for the wanderers of the forrest and the creatures surrounding it. What was once a trunk now plays shelter to a small group of birds who once called the tree home.

The edge of the forrest was bordered by a fence. This fence was new. Brand new. The tree that gave its life to this fence was freshly gone. This fence was apparently just for looks, because it wasn't high enough to keep out anything but the lowest 3 feet of wind through the forrest. Just over the fence extended a stretch of field that was being worked over by dozens of colossal machines, flattening, paving, excavating, and smoothing. A highway laid in the horizon line that abruptly ended right before the forrest began - or moreso where the forrest was about to end.