i look at the little swamp run over and an old inexpressible grief rises.
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how does suffering strengthen the relationships that hold us together?
-suzanne simard, finding the mother tree
reading the mother tree i'm recalling when i planted trees after the clear-cutters on vancouver island. we had a contract, so many trees, and a certain number that had to stay alive — we had to return to replace the ones that died. i remember the birds coming around camp, traumatized. there was no habitat left. the little trees died because there were no mother trees, and no fungus to nurture their roots. the forest was destroyed.
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