Ada Woodruff Anderson, The Heart of the Red Firs: A Story of the Pacific Northwest
“ But the roof had fallen in, and between the fragments fern and salal crowded, waist-high from the earth floor.Forrest had believed that all he needed was to be out-of-doors; to get in touch with the growing timber again; to ride or tramp all day through the great stillness; to have the opportunity to think over and outline, undisturbed, his contemplated work, and he would be himself once more. ”
