SOMETIMES I STUMBLE
Sometimes when I’m walking the banks of the Hiwassee or along the railroad tracks beside the river, I sometimes stumble. I’m sure it has nothing to do what so ever to my advancing years. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought recently and have finally come up with an excuse, or I should say a solution. I love trees.
Being raised in the Pacific Northwest, I learned to love trees. We had lots of trees. We had lots of big trees. I could identify, at a distance, every kind of tree which grew there and most all were green year around. Oh sure, there were Alder, Cottonwood and such along the watersheds, but for the most part, the landscape was always green.
I spent some time in South Texas, Arizona and Kansas. What a waste for a tree lover.
Thirty years in South Florida wasn’t much better. Oh sure, lots of trees but they are short and green as an emerald year around and the land is so flat, you have to shinny up one tree to see the next one.
Now my soul is happy. Where ever I look, trees abound. There are big ones, small ones, fat and skinny. Some put on a dazzling display in the spring or fall and some just seem content to simply be a tree.
I especially enjoy them in the winter. Birds zoom unfettered through them. Their patterns against the sky offer an endless variety of design. It seems each are in competition with their neighbors. For some, their will to survive by clinging tenaciously to life in the most improbable locations amazes me. I’ve met many a tree that would just as soon pick up roots and move if they could.
I’ve discovered that trees have personalities. Oaks are stubborn and unwieldy. Sycamores are stiff and aloof I suppose it’s because they consider themselves superior due to their height. Most are congenial. They wave their arms at the grey sky as if saying “here I am”.
If you are dumb enough to try it, sidle up to a tree and put your ear to it. It’s amazing. Sometimes they whisper and groan. Who knows, maybe you’ll make a friend.
If you are up along the river and see someone stumble on the bank or along the tracks, they may be a tree lover like me.
If you see someone listening to and talking to a tree, I don’t know them.
Jim Monfort
A.k.a. Shakey