Nemophilist, Lover of Forests

It kind of rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it? Nemophilist . . . *sigh*

I discovered this word only recently, but it turns out it’s been applying to me all along. A nemophilist is “one who is fond of forest or forest scenery; a haunter of the woods.” (Source: Webster’s via thefreedictionary.com.)

I especially like that last part. Haunt and woods go together so well, don’t they?

I present to you, my fellow nemophiles (and soon-to-be nemophiles), a list of some of the things I love about a forest:

*Forests are made up of trees (which are some of my favorite beings), and they…

*talk to one another

*take care of one another

*have heartbeats

Plus, knocking on wood–even live, tree wood–is probably, almost certainly, a surefire way to prevent disaster (just ask the Druids).

As for the forests, they are places . . .

*to hide or be found or

*to disappear (never to return until twenty-seven years later, when you’ve become a legend of near-mythic proportions, only to be charged with perpetrating lots and lots of minor burglaries).

*where you can become lost and wander haphazardly for hours. (Why, yes, I do know this to be true. Why do you ask?)

The woodlands also . . .

*are for bathing

*help you and I and the whole planet breathe

*house unnamed creatures and possibly other yet-to-be-known things

*are worlds of their own, with worlds inside those worlds, and worlds inside those worlds

*are full of food, even for us humans

Bonus: people can start their own forest, and the forest will say, “Thanks, I’ll take it from here.”

The woods . . .

*ooze with mystery and life, day and night

*in my experience, sometimes hide unknown things in the deepest dark of their nighttime shadows. These things might follow you, matching your footsteps carefully like no animal normally would, and never, ever reveal what they actually happen to be. Any ideas? Anyone? (No, really, I’d really like to know.)

*have been here for a long, long time, and even the woods that have been bulldozed and burned and torn away will probably one day rise again; in some places, they’re rising already.

Forests love us, so it’s only fair that we love them back, don’t you think? Which reminds me . . . I think it’s time to go haunt a forest for a while. Join me?

For in the true nature of things,

if we rightly consider,

every green tree

is far more glorious

than if it were made of gold and silver.

Martin Luther King Jr.

Thanks for reading, and please contact me at Three Quills Editing to discuss just about anything: books and poetry, rescue pets, your favorite pollinator-friendly native plants, or—one of my personal favorites—to request a free sample edit. I’d love to hear from you!

*This post has been edited from one I previously wrote and shared.