16 August 2007

A Tree in Hand is Worth...

Holly Lisle has a really interesting post about trees (well, the 'really interesting' part is in the comments, actually) that got me thinking about trees and forests and how important they've always been to me.

First, there was the Norway maple in the yard of the house I grew up in. Huge thing, taller than the house by 20 feet or more. I loved the thing. The whole neighborhood climbed it. It was home base for countless games of hide-and-seek. My best friend and I once vowed to spend a whole day in it (and we would have, had we not been stimied by the logistics of emptying our bladders - sucks, being a girl sometimes).

Then there were the colossal oak trees in the park down the street. I think there were probably 20 or 30 of them. You could feel something in them just walking by. When I left New England to move Way Out West, I made a special trip to say good bye to those trees. I picked up an acorn from one of them, hoping to take some of their strength with me. I still have it somewhere.

Finally, the exact opposite of the massive oaks, were the krummholz forests in the mountains. I'm not even sure you could call them forests. They look more like a twisted, tortured mat of tiny, pine trees. They're ancient, 100 years old or more, though they're no taller than me (and I ain't tall). They survive somehow at 5,000 feet above sea level on the piles of granite they call mountains, because they're tough enough to deal with snow and ice every month of the year. I always wanted to be that tough.

Wonder if ever I will be.

1 comment:

Leslie said...

One of the things that made me fall in love with B was the pots of dirt on his dorm room windowsill. He had planted some acorns, trying to grow some oak trees because, really, how cool would that be? It was dorky and quirky and I wished I'd thought of that!