Come one, come all.
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Gone but not forgotten. It isn't something you can put between two slices of bread. It's not one that you would warm up or take for lunch, but its firm buck-skin color and the veins that once gave it meaning will slowly fade and exist again; chlorophyll laden, green sunlight worshiping life.  The rose of Autumn. The color of love. Deep eyed wonder and a lust to see more. 
A tree that leans in and enjoys being closest to the life giving water is also the first to give its body back to the earth. 
I don't care if it's growing on a log. A log that's floating in the water. Twenty feet from shore. That's still a tree. Amazing, no?   Did it take more energy to grow this tree or more energy to destroy it?
Just askin' I love April. The serviceberry tree just outside my living room window is about to burst; thanks to my ex-wife for putting it there. The box elders in the empty lot next door are already showing their willingness to break free from winter's grip; they are the first to bud in the spring, and the first to go in the fall.
Now I have to go and tend to the juniper, which fell over in the ice of January.... |
Trees: The ultimate inspiration. A source of beauty, a source of strength; energy.
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