Trees

Anyone who knows me knows I like trees. And mountains. Mountain forests. Costal forests too. Maybe just forests in general. As long as I can remember I’ve really enjoyed going to forests, which I’ve always found strange since I’ve grown up and still live in a place the opposite of a forest. A land of cement and asphalt: Los Angeles County.

My earliest memory of a forest was going to Yosemite with my Aunt Helen (Knickerbocker) Vesterby and her husband, Uncle John Vesterby (my Mom, Dad, and Cousin Jim too) when I was about four (maybe three?) years old (1967 or 1968).  Here’s a few blurry pictures camping in Yosemite.

For whatever reason, the magic of camping under the trees in Yosemite has stayed with me all my life.

better-yosemite1

Uncle John Vesterby, me, Aunt Helen (Knickerbocker) Vesterby

better-yosemite2

Me, with a book ( another common sight)

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