Generations ago, early settlers to Colorado discovered a forest of Ponderosa Pines on the foothills of Pikes Peak. When viewed from miles away, the thicket of trees appeared more black than green and became known as the Black Forest. This is where I grew up and my folks still live.
Two summers ago, my parents (and thousands of other residents of Black Forest, Colorado) nearly lost their home in a destructive fire that tore through the Black Forest. Following an evacuation and tense hours that turned into days of not knowing whose homes were spared, my parents finally returned home to an intact property. Hundreds of families were not so lucky.
As the months passed, Black Forest residents went to work clearing dead trees and rebuilding lost homes. A few people left. Most stayed. Winter came and summer returned. A year passed and then another.
Today, there are still sections of charred trees that have yet to be cleared. The eery trunks stand straight as though nothing has changed, but with a few exceptions: all the green pine needles are gone and every trunk is transformed to a deep charcoal black—giving new meaning to the name Black Forest.
I couldn't resist documenting what's left of a burned down homestead not far from my house, where it still sits buried beneath the snow.
Also my husband is a handsome devil, so naturally...
I don't just take pictures! There's more on my facebook page.
I live in Malibu, Calif.,