10/08/2025
This summer, we didn’t travel far. Instead, we stayed close — not just to home, but to the earth beneath our feet.
Rather than seeking new landscapes, we chose to deepen our relationship with the one that has quietly sheltered us for years — the forest that cradles our canvas tent, our simple summer home amidst the trees.
We took on a project of building a temporary wooden deck — a place to pitch our tent more securely, to sit above the forest floor without separating ourselves from it. We had no background in woodworking. But the land, the trees, the changing sky — they became our quiet teachers. Alongside a few kind friends and the occasional YouTube guide, we learned. Slowly.
We started in May, carrying materials by hand, often unsure of what we were doing, but moving forward all the same. Friends lent tools, and we made our first investments in a drill, an electric saw, and the courage to make mistakes.
The process was imperfect, as nature tends to be — full of black flies, crooked measurements, and moments where nothing seemed to go as planned. But the forest doesn’t mind imperfection. It only asks that we show up, listen, and participate.
And so we did.
In building something with our hands, we built something even deeper — time together, rooted in purpose. We watched the land shift through its seasons: blossoms unfurling, trees reaching full green, birds returning with their songs. Each visit brought new life, not just to the project, but to us.
There is something profound about learning without hierarchy — no expert, no novice, just a family, working together, hands in the soil, eyes to the canopy. We were not building on the land, but with it.
