Sunday, March 18, 2018


when i think of trees it's fine to find other thoughts of people thinking of trees over time and presently.

trees are so much more than stands for birds to nest in, and dogs to pee upon. they are companions, and we may never know all they communicate.

i dawdled much this morning taking many pictures of trees and roots and dirt. i thought about how mister chomps on trees. a fellow sitting by the path through the meadow by the manger the children made which his puppy likes to lay in said his dog was chewing a stick and he smelled it and it was sassafras. mister seems to like bark and decaying wood. 

i go back to see how trees evolve, or die. i feel a kinship that grows with time, even watching them turn to humus. this one was a baby growing from the root ball of its mother tree that is growing up beautifully.

{Thoreau reverenced trees as living incantations, wordless prayers, benedictions for the art of being. In their company, he found a counterpoint to the falsehoods of society. Fifteen years after his mentor Emerson lamented in his own journal that “in cities… one seems to lose all substance, & become surface in a world of surfaces.” (from brainpickings, by maria popova, about thoreau and the language of trees, by richard higgins.)}

trees go beneath the surface and collaborate with the good dirt while they breath out oxygen sink carbon and reach into the sky. 

No comments:

Post a Comment