Cedars Walking
Monday, February 2, 2026
Cedars Walking
Story and Photos by Natalie Pascale Boisseau
On an early, cloudy Saturday morning in December 2025, twenty-three cedars crossed the road between our home and Five Acre Woods. They moved two by two, leaning on their sides, into a motorized trail cart, to be planted during the wet season in the open space and hillsides.
These twenty-three cedars had spent the last eight months on the side of our house, watching the inviting woods across. They were placed around our old chicken coop, creating a circular passage with cedars on each side. When I watered them in the early evening summer through the dry fall, the essence of cedar penetrated my brain, my body relaxing.
Walking along the edges they formed, I became a little part of them, feeling infused by their profound and gentle essence. I always walked back to the house filled with cedar woods inside me, quieter and rejuvenated.
The idea to preserve these 23 cedars and transplant them at Five Acre woods arose in early Spring. My spouse, Laura Swaim, who manages salmon hatcheries for the Muckleshoot Tribe, was told of the Hanging Basket nursery in Enumclaw, WA, and the tree grower dedicated to supplying native plants and trees to the restoration efforts of tribal and state lands for riparian salmon zones.
At the end of the morning, the volunteers came down to the entrance of the park for a cup of coffee and pastry, to chat and make seasonal garlands for birds, stringing pinecones rolled in peanut butter, with cranberries and dried oranges and apple slices, to bring home for their backyard birds, and to celebrate the welcoming of the cedars in their new world.
A month after being transplanted in native habitat, the cedars are still settling in. It is becoming more difficult to notice which tree has just been planted. They are surrounded by tall mature trees sustaining them through their overstory and roots network, with fallen trunks laying around which are becoming nurse logs providing new soil for the forest floor, and fallen branches hosting delicate turkey tails, lichen and other mushrooms.
On an early, cloudy Saturday morning in December 2025, twenty-three cedars crossed the road between our home and Five Acre Woods. They moved two by two, leaning on their sides, into a motorized trail cart, to be planted during the wet season in the open space and hillsides.
These twenty-three cedars had spent the last eight months on the side of our house, watching the inviting woods across. They were placed around our old chicken coop, creating a circular passage with cedars on each side. When I watered them in the early evening summer through the dry fall, the essence of cedar penetrated my brain, my body relaxing.
Walking along the edges they formed, I became a little part of them, feeling infused by their profound and gentle essence. I always walked back to the house filled with cedar woods inside me, quieter and rejuvenated.
The idea to preserve these 23 cedars and transplant them at Five Acre woods arose in early Spring. My spouse, Laura Swaim, who manages salmon hatcheries for the Muckleshoot Tribe, was told of the Hanging Basket nursery in Enumclaw, WA, and the tree grower dedicated to supplying native plants and trees to the restoration efforts of tribal and state lands for riparian salmon zones.
The twenty-three cedars began their initial journey in Enumclaw. Laura contacted Polly Saunders who coordinates the restoration of Five Acre woods and rapidly the decision was made to acquire the 8 foot saplings with the financial and logistic support of the LFP Stewardship Foundation.
In May, a small crew set to move them from Muckleshoot land where they were delivered. The trees migrated north along I-5 in a very deep truck, sheltered from the winds, navigating the highway, bumping against each other when the truck rolled over the uneven road where it is still in repair.
In May, a small crew set to move them from Muckleshoot land where they were delivered. The trees migrated north along I-5 in a very deep truck, sheltered from the winds, navigating the highway, bumping against each other when the truck rolled over the uneven road where it is still in repair.
The small crew formed a caravan, with the precious cargo forming a mobile, compacted forest inside the box truck. Once they arrived at our house, out of their carriage, they were more loosely deposited around our old chicken coop with their J shaped branches still touching.
When they arrived at our home, they were already 8 feet tall. Before that, they were raised for years in a nursery in the southern foothills of the Cascades. By the time they were relocated to Five Acre Woods, they grew another two, their roots claiming freedom from their five gallons pots, and finally a home to reach their 200 ft, in their preferred moist to wet soil.
When they arrived at our home, they were already 8 feet tall. Before that, they were raised for years in a nursery in the southern foothills of the Cascades. By the time they were relocated to Five Acre Woods, they grew another two, their roots claiming freedom from their five gallons pots, and finally a home to reach their 200 ft, in their preferred moist to wet soil.
Living so close to this small compact forest of cedars I experienced some of the healing and spiritual protection mentioned in many cultures, such as promoting peaceful thoughts and helping interpret messages from the inner self.
Native ethnobotanical uses have included for centuries the bark for weaving mats, baskets, blankets and rope, the wood for construction, how they contain natural fungicides and aromatic oils and resins that repel pests and resist rot, making their use long-lasting.
The leaves and branches have been made into teas and tinctures for colds, coughs, fungal infections, and sore muscles. Cedars have been made for spiritual uses of purification of homes, as incense, in rituals to favor luck for whalers and other rituals surrounding death. Their ecological role includes the critical shade for salmon streams in keeping the water cool, and offering food, shelter and habitat for various wildlife.
On restoration day, the first Saturday of December, starting at 8am, we gathered to move the potted trees two at the time across the road. Throughout the forested park, others prepped the site of the trees’ new homes, digging large holes, freeing the roots from the 5-gallon pot, and carefully planting the cedars with water.
On restoration day, the first Saturday of December, starting at 8am, we gathered to move the potted trees two at the time across the road. Throughout the forested park, others prepped the site of the trees’ new homes, digging large holes, freeing the roots from the 5-gallon pot, and carefully planting the cedars with water.
Humus from the decomposing fallen trees, rich in organic matter and nutrients, was mixed into each planting hole to acclimate and nurture the young trees. Disseminated across the woods, more than forty volunteers, warm, red-cheeked, eyes sparkling crew joined the effort. At the end of the day, walking along the trails we could identify and count the twenty-three cedars recognizable only by their heights, and the small mound of soil at the base of their trunks.
At the end of the morning, the volunteers came down to the entrance of the park for a cup of coffee and pastry, to chat and make seasonal garlands for birds, stringing pinecones rolled in peanut butter, with cranberries and dried oranges and apple slices, to bring home for their backyard birds, and to celebrate the welcoming of the cedars in their new world.
A month after being transplanted in native habitat, the cedars are still settling in. It is becoming more difficult to notice which tree has just been planted. They are surrounded by tall mature trees sustaining them through their overstory and roots network, with fallen trunks laying around which are becoming nurse logs providing new soil for the forest floor, and fallen branches hosting delicate turkey tails, lichen and other mushrooms.
Their root system is actively retaining the needed moisture. Some might need added water; others are thriving in wetter terrain. Their branches are unwinding, connecting with their new community at Five Acre Park and stretching their invisible presence in its surroundings, with space above for their canopy to kiss the sky.
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