Trees

Winter changes the look of our surroundings. I like the stature of trees in the starkness of winter.  Their hidden shapes: the bends and curves of branches, twisted trunks, the rise and fall of the peeling bark.

Roots hold tight to the soil and sink deep to find the life giving water.  Even in dormancy, without their green canopies trees have much to say.  They speak of endurance, solitude, determination and giving.

  
I have planted trees in a new yard  anticipating small green buds in spring, branches hanging heavy with apples in late summer and leaves of gold and bronze in the fall.  Even when I was lacks in my nurturing the trees still gave back.  Never failing in consistence and generosity.

 
Trees grow old, and the years of wind, cold and rain show in the broken limbs and knotted roots.  They have stood as silent sentinels watching and listening to the changes taking place around them; keeping secrets.

I just like trees: their inviting shade, green dense umbrellas, scarred bark and the stately manner in which they wait for the winter months to pass.  Trees are good for the soul.  In some strange way, they warm us and make us feel better.  Everyone needs a tree.  It makes us look up.