When I was a child living in Holliston Massachusetts, I remember running through the forest behind my house as long as the sun would shine!!!! I remember how the tree's would bend down to make fairy houses for me and my little fairy girl friends (and my brother though can't remember him being invited, he was probably the troll). I remember the tree swing our dad made that hung between the limb of two strong oaks and how I would pump and try to make my toes touch the sun. I remember living in New England was such a great place to live because the trees were always changing never staying the same and how Fall would bring colors of vibrant oranges and purples and red and yet even though winter seems to bring them death a blanket of snow and ice would sheath them in silent protection making them pure in their slumber. Spring would always come again. Something I still always look forward to and one reason Spring time is one of my favorites is the sure sign spring has sprung when pussy willows pop out like alien creatures growing on sticks and you can cut a few down and bring em home to mom to put in a vase and they last all year long like that without even adding water! A still memory of new life like teeny little kittens on God grown shishkabob's!
OK so I admit Spring is also the season of my birth which is another reason I am quite fond of this time of year, yet even as I type this love letters to my blog readers and to the trees I have loved and do love the wafting of lilacs comes through my window in an intoxicating manor calling me to go sit on my farmers porch and enjoy my last evening of being fifty.
I think that I will never see
A poem as lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of Robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
Look at the trees, looks at the birds, looks at the clouds, look at the stars...and if you have eyes you will be able to see the the whole existence is joyful. Everything is simply happy. Trees are happy for no reason, they are not going to become prime ministers or presidents and they are not going to become rich and they will never have any bank balance. Look at the flower- for no reason, it is simply unbelievable how happy flowers
To the great tree- loving fraternity we belong.
We love trees with universal and unfeigned love,
and all things that do grow under them or around
them- the whole leaf and root tribe.
~Henry Ward Beecher