Trees don’t worry much about time.
Here is one of my favorite trees. I call it the dragon tree. I am guessing by the size of the trunk that it is at least 150 years old. The trunk of the tree grew horizontally across a large rock, gradually turned like a great serpent towards the edge of the rock and when it reached the edge and good light it turned 90 degrees skyward. It must have taken 50 years to find just the right spot to grow. I wish I had that kind of patience.
Trees don’t mind sharing. This tree started as two trees growing side by side, twins.
At some point they decided they could be a bigger tree if they joined up. Today it stands as one of the tallest trees on my property. (Please ignore that old fat man in the picture).
Trees like to smell good. When the creek floods, a lot of debris flows down from a community several miles upstream. Sometimes the trees will grab and hold onto things they like.
Trees don’t hold ill will.
I have watched tree die a slow but graceful death over many years.
When a sapling it must have thought how lucky it was to be growing in such a wonderful place above the grassy banks of a beautiful creek. It died because of the clear cut timbering that went on upstream a number of years ago. Subsequent erosion of the hillsides created yearly flash floods that have cut away the banks of the once narrow creek that ran through my valley. Many trees have lost their hold and have fallen. In all my visits to this tree, however, I never once heard even a mutter of disdain for the men and chainsaws that set in motion the mechanism of its death.
Note: I did hear it snicker once when it saw me in shorts for the first time.
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On the Story Trail
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