I’m standing in a stretch of woods. The trunks of towering trees are charred black and some of the lowest hanging pine needles are singed a burnt orange. Light streams through an open canopy. A sapling of cedar hardly bigger than the palm of my hand has just started to poke its head above a thin layer of pine needles.
This stretch of forest has obviously seen fire recently, but instead of destruction, I see growth and regeneration. The forest just feels healthier, spacious.