I’ve gotten spoiled by the forest’s rich beauty. If visiting from the Lower 48, I would be overwhelmed by the colors, textures and shapes of the trees we pass between to reach a North Douglas Island beach.
This morning, I become a tourist and gave the old growth trees a stronger view. Each trunk grew out of a stump or downed tree. Some had to bend their large bodies around boulders or another tree. They hold on to these bends for years or maybe centuries after the pushy tree lived, died, and rotted away.