High in the mountians is a place of disaster and recovery. It is the burnt forest. Not long ago, a fire raged through a once vibrant pine forest. The animals fled and the trees burned. The blackened skeletons of the trees stand sadly on scorched earth.
At first glance, the only colors of this landscape are black and brown, but look again, carefully, and you will find the cycle of life is beginning again. Tiny trees have sprouted among the dead elders. They are pushing through the soil that is now enriched with all the
nutrients from the remains of their fore bearers.
Reach down and scoop a handful of this black earth. It stains your hands with carbon, but it is heavy, full of organic material. Here is a place where magnificent beginnings are possible, all it will take is time. All things are possible, given enough time and fertile ground.
At first glance, the only colors of this landscape are black and brown, but look again, carefully, and you will find the cycle of life is beginning again. Tiny trees have sprouted among the dead elders. They are pushing through the soil that is now enriched with all the
nutrients from the remains of their fore bearers.
Reach down and scoop a handful of this black earth. It stains your hands with carbon, but it is heavy, full of organic material. Here is a place where magnificent beginnings are possible, all it will take is time. All things are possible, given enough time and fertile ground.
