It has been raining steadily for days, but the evening sun now pierces the haze like a pink, flaming orb, its broken rays angling downward through a gallery of 30-foot-high windows recently carved into a towering wall of redwoods along the riverbank. The trees are maybe 30 years old, new-growth trees just a few feet wide at the base but already 60 feet tall. A century ago, the entire valley had been clear-cut by loggers, the lumber stacked like wet cordwood on the flat cars of a southbound train whose long-abandoned tracks now lay below the ridge, rusting and... More >>>