Finding Home in a New Forest
Maria wrote about the forests of her old home so beautifully. I had asked her about the trees, what made her love them, what made her know them, and her answers underscored how in a changing world, a community’s connection to the land and each other can be how we find some measure of certainty.
I wanted to ask her about the forests of home because climate change threatens the continuation of all forests as we know them. Warming temperatures are shifting plant hardiness zones further north, and warmer temperatures in the Pacific Northwest (PNW) are leaving our traditional forests vulnerable to drought, pest infestations, and increased wildfire risk. As the effects of climate change continue to amplify, it is possible that many iconic PNW species will no longer be able to thrive here.
These same climate change impacts will also cause many of us to seek out new homes too, as environments that were once hospitable turn hostile. The UN Human Rights Committee predicts that tens of millions of people will be climate migrants before the end of the decade, and there could be as many as 200 million by 2050. Climate migrants will move both within countries as well as across borders, seeking refuge from droughts, crop failures, wildfires, and floods.
Talking about climate change can easily bring up feelings of fear and helplessness. But talking about climate change is also a great opportunity to unite in action rather than be divided by our differences. It is a chance to unite around what we have in common, such as a desire to protect the people and places we love, and lead meaningful efforts to create healthy, liveable, and resilient communities. Falling in love with the forest of home led Maria to be passionate about the health of Tacoma’s urban forests. Broad shared values, no matter their place of origin, can be what pulls us together to do work that benefits us all.
Maria’s home forest made her feel safe and made her feel at peace. It was noisy and exuberant, connecting Maria to a web of life that was much larger than herself. There were weekends spent tending citrus trees and excursions to the Bogotá botanical garden that taught her to notice the complexity of living things. Her grandmother and aunt used eucalyptus leaves to clean the air inside their home, helping her breathe. It’s a scent she loves to this day, a reminder of her past. To Maria, it is hard to talk about the trees of home without also talking about the people. Hearing how and why Maria fell in love with the forest of home made me understand how easy it was for her to see what was worth loving in a new place.
In Tacoma, her favorite trees here are the madrones; the ones in Swan Creek Park are the ones she knows best. She can feel the trunk where the bark has flaked off, smell them, see what part they play in the forests of the Pacific Northwest. There are new people she shares these forests with too, a community made of both lifelong PNW residents and recent transplants. More importantly, she also shares the work of strengthening and growing Tacoma’s forest with this community, all brought together by values integral to Tacoma’s identity: a commitment to diversity and preserving unique identities, hard-work, a love of good food, and a widespread desire to improve the well-being of community residents while also protecting the environment around us. Maria found a new home by finding a new community --Tacoma’s.
Tacoma is a strong community, and one that believes in action. So if you’re scared and uncertain about climate change (or anything else), we offer you this advice: the next time you meet someone new, ask them about home. Ask them about what they loved about it. And then go plant a tree together.