I am happiest sitting in the cracked vinyl passenger seat of Dad’s dump truck, watching the rocks in the road through the rusted holes of the truck’s floorboards. The radio doesn’t work in that old-green truck so I’ve spent a lot of time listening to stories from Dad logging for 40 years, and grandpa before that.
I was fortunate enough to grow up in a place where the words “go play” meant running down to the cold creek and spending hours under the shade of a big Douglas fir tree. While Dad felled trees, I made forts in the rock quarry with my sisters, rolled around in culverts and played dress up with dented tin hard hats. Both log trucks and tree-sitter crowds have traveled along the road to town from my family’s home on a foggy ridge in Humboldt County, CA. The forest industry is as essential to me as gear grease is to Dad’s dozer tractor.
I had the fabulous opportunity to earn a degree in Forestry and Natural Resources at California Polytechnic State University in San Luis Obispo, CA. During a Oregon internship I was swiftly introduced as the “logger’s daughter” because growing up in Humboldt County, going to school at Cal Poly and being an enthusiastic intern were not powerful prerequisites. With this title to live up to I begin to share my experiences with the lens of a logger’s daughter.
This blog shares stories of from California, Finland from my study abroad at Seinajoki University of Applied Sciences (SeAMK) and now West Virginia as I earn my masters degree at West Virginia University in Morgantown.
Thank you for reading.