
But it hasn’t stopped my love affair of trees from growing. Looking back, I must have developed this passion as a kid, climbing trees in my childhood, looking down at the world from higher up, seeing things in a new light. What a wonderful feeling. Experiencing views that make you look at things differently. It was like climbing on the roof of a house, only better because you had to shimmy up, get bark all over your dungarees and clamber out on a sturdy limb to secure yourself for a safe vista. Your stomach clenched as your spirit soared.
That Instagram account never happened. I envisioned it similar to that one, “Humans of New York,” with random people photos, including interviews with them. In my fantasy, I’d let the trees speak for themselves because they should have a voice.
Trees are sturdy, powerful, mesmerizing, artistic, and resilient. It astounds me how they muddle through storms. Think of the years and years of high winds and rains pounding their limbs, seeking to rip their roots from the ground or topple their trunks, snapping branches and sending wood splintering.
Yes, that happens. But most trees survive even the bad storms. Sure, tornadoes rip up everything. Super heavy snow or thick ice storms fell some of the oldest and wisest trees, but most continue to survive. Come each spring, they choose to sprout again, thriving, reaching their leaves out to the world. It’s incredible.
Think how they choose to propagate their species. Throw buds to the wind. Drop seeds to the ground. Hope squirrels don’t eat your young. Wait for rain. Assume some of your progeny will sprout under your wings.
Some make it. Slowly a baby oak buds under its parents’ awning, hoping not to be eaten by a deer, mowed down by a human, or destroyed by insects or a blight.
My wife has been planting multiple new trees in our yard the past four years. I salute her repeatedly on this. She’s diversifying the world sapling by sapling, watering each faithfully, ensuring they have space, light and water. Thirty years from now, this space of earth we currently inhabit will have fresh growth, fresh forest, diversity and health.
I wish that for the world. I wish more trees of different species were planted regularly by people all over this planet, adding oxygen, preventing pest infestations and enhancing the health of each type of tree, along with our planet overall.
That fantasy Instagram account envisioned the beauty of trees. The colossal fir tree smelling like Christmas, a carpet of needles sending delicious scents your way. The single birch tree, its bark peeling, thin enough for you to write a letter on it. Cottonwoods reaching singularly for the sky, sending their puffy white balls across the plains.
Tree huggers can be mocked. But the world would be a lesser place without diverse forests. They provide raw beauty, support for each other, oxygen for us humans, cover for animals, food for many, and the list goes on. Put your arms around one tomorrow and feel their power and awesomeness.