End of a Forest

I spent the day at my mother's house, looking after her. Our customary afternoon walk has become quite difficult, though.

Her street has houses on one side, the forest on the other. Or rather, what's left of the forest. So many drought- and bark beetle-damaged trees had to be felled. The entire street is now a storage area for logs, with heavy machinery driving back and forth, delivering more wood from the forest and carting it away on huge lorries. 

We saw lorries from Estonia, Romania, Belgium, Germany, Latvia and Finland today and wondered why our forests end up in so many different countries.