Talking with trees
Whoa. It's been forever since I have updated. Whatever.
So I went for a romp in the park the other day. The weather was pleasant, and it was just a side track that came along on the way. It was nice to walk around for a while in the sunshine, on the moist ground. Oh, and I was finally able to tackle the tree at the top of the hill in the park. I found somebody tall enough to lift me up there, finally.
Sure enough, it was a talking tree. Sure, I had pulled over on occasional walks to give it a hug and ask it how it was, but trees don't really converse unless you try to challenge them. Shorter trees that can't be climbed are too chatty. They talk to anyone who gives them the time of day because they think that's the only way they can communicate. But this tree was huge, and it had been sitting in my imagination for a long time. It was a challenge that had yet to be taken up.
So the tree was little unfriendly on the approach. I mean small talk and hugs doesn't make you best buddies or anything. You gotta show the tree that you really want to get to know it, that you have the urge to be a good friend. When I say good friend, I don't mean someone who brings the green bean cassarole at Thanksgiving. I mean someone, for a tree anyways, that will drop by occasionally, spend time with it, even if it's cold outside and a bit of a walk to visit, and try to understand its posistion. trees are kind of like the elderly. The strongest ones have seen the most, and they have every intention on sticking around for a while longer.
So I climmbed up into the tree, and it was a little agressive at first. You know, moss bits in the eyes, and a rather nasty scratch on my arm. But once I sloth-crawled my way across a thick branch and flung myself into a sitting posistion, I had a feeling that I had gotten over the first hurdle with the tree.
As I shimmyed my way across the branch, I finally met up with its central junction, where all the tangents fo the tree meet up and make the trunk. the tree was very welcoming, and its branches hugged around my body with a soft mossy layer. I hugged the tree's junction, and held my face on the moss. Trees are so friendly once they know that you mean well, and aren't going to build a fucking tree house in them. Trees aren't superficial. They don't put up a façade and trick you. They are who they are. They don't need bird feeders or flashy decorations. If a tree knows you can love it without stabbing a nail into its flesh, then its more than willing to receive you.
I will have to go back more often. This is just a step in the door with the tree. It knows I want to get to know it. Our next tea party may result in a little more conversation, rather than battle.
Yeah yeah. I am a tree hugger.
So I went for a romp in the park the other day. The weather was pleasant, and it was just a side track that came along on the way. It was nice to walk around for a while in the sunshine, on the moist ground. Oh, and I was finally able to tackle the tree at the top of the hill in the park. I found somebody tall enough to lift me up there, finally.
Sure enough, it was a talking tree. Sure, I had pulled over on occasional walks to give it a hug and ask it how it was, but trees don't really converse unless you try to challenge them. Shorter trees that can't be climbed are too chatty. They talk to anyone who gives them the time of day because they think that's the only way they can communicate. But this tree was huge, and it had been sitting in my imagination for a long time. It was a challenge that had yet to be taken up.
So the tree was little unfriendly on the approach. I mean small talk and hugs doesn't make you best buddies or anything. You gotta show the tree that you really want to get to know it, that you have the urge to be a good friend. When I say good friend, I don't mean someone who brings the green bean cassarole at Thanksgiving. I mean someone, for a tree anyways, that will drop by occasionally, spend time with it, even if it's cold outside and a bit of a walk to visit, and try to understand its posistion. trees are kind of like the elderly. The strongest ones have seen the most, and they have every intention on sticking around for a while longer.
So I climmbed up into the tree, and it was a little agressive at first. You know, moss bits in the eyes, and a rather nasty scratch on my arm. But once I sloth-crawled my way across a thick branch and flung myself into a sitting posistion, I had a feeling that I had gotten over the first hurdle with the tree.
As I shimmyed my way across the branch, I finally met up with its central junction, where all the tangents fo the tree meet up and make the trunk. the tree was very welcoming, and its branches hugged around my body with a soft mossy layer. I hugged the tree's junction, and held my face on the moss. Trees are so friendly once they know that you mean well, and aren't going to build a fucking tree house in them. Trees aren't superficial. They don't put up a façade and trick you. They are who they are. They don't need bird feeders or flashy decorations. If a tree knows you can love it without stabbing a nail into its flesh, then its more than willing to receive you.
I will have to go back more often. This is just a step in the door with the tree. It knows I want to get to know it. Our next tea party may result in a little more conversation, rather than battle.
Yeah yeah. I am a tree hugger.