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This week: Observations on the Felling of a Tree Edited by: Fyn-elf  
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The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity... and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself. ~~William Blake
Night, the beloved. Night, when words fade and things come alive. When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again. When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree. ~Antoine de Saint-Exupery
If you look closely at a tree you'll notice it's knots and dead branches, just like our bodies. What we learn is that beauty and imperfection go together wonderfully. ~Matthew Fox
Consider a tree for a moment. As beautiful as trees are to look at, we don't see what goes on underground - as they grow roots. Trees must develop deep roots in order to grow strong and produce their beauty. But we don't see the roots. We just see and enjoy the beauty. In much the same way, what goes on inside of us is like the roots of a tree. ~Joyce Meyer
Trees
BY JOYCE KILMER
I think that I shall never see
A poem 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.
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This weekend, we said goodbye to two dear, dear friends. The sixty-some-odd foot Blue Spruce and its little sister, a fifty foot Northern Spruce, once magnificent sentinels, had become diseased and were dying. Rather than have them come crashing to the ground during a storm, or have them hit someone's house or car, we knew the time had come.
Once, they were such beautiful, majestic trees, deeply blue-green with branches that gracefully arced towards the ground. There was a place on the one where you could step into a darkened cave beneath the branches, breathe deeply of crisp undiluted Christmas and savor the twenty degree temperature drop on the hottest days of summer. Home to cardinals, robins, blue jays, chick-a-dees, finches and humming birds, each tree yearly supported more than fifty nests. Each snow-laden bough provided a crystalline roof and protection for the winter birds. The trees were landmarks, and meant 'home' to more than the birds sheltering within. The two guarded our home and filled what is now a sadly, empty front yard.
We had to take them down before the nests were built. The birds are flying in circles, daily patterns upset, as the safety and convenience of them are no more. They seem a bit lost, as are we. As I look out from my office window to piles of branches awaiting the chipper crew, each time I look out, I am arrested in mid-movement as the new view catches me off guard, yet again. The sun, unblocked by thick branches, or even the dying ones, blazes in through my window, blindingly bright. Branches that one were a natural curtain are no more. The two bird feeders swing forlornly, devoid of birds as there is now no safe retreat.
All winter, the turkeys and deer came to feed beneath their branches and the squirrels frolicked. Just two days ago, spring's orchestra and chorus was in full voice where now the song is silenced. I counted the rings and the trees were roughly forty-five to fifty years old. Same age as the house. For new trees to grow to even half the height and breadth will take more years than my husband and I have left on this planet. That is a singularly odd feeling. Mortality usually is.
What took fifty years to grow came down in a minute and thirty-seven seconds. Mind-bobbling as I stood there, across the street, filming it. It took four hours for all of us to de-branch, slice, chop and stack the wood along the back fence. Each summer fire in the burn-pit will be another testament to the tree. We found a string of now age-blackened beads tangled in the top-most branches. A remnant of some Christmas forty years ago, perhaps. We kept it.
Sure, we will plant new trees. Perhaps a dogwood, perhaps something else. It won't ever be the same. It will be different. Maybe we can plant a smaller spruce tree and decorate it come some future winter. (Yes, we would put those old beads on it!) There are endless possibilities. As there usually are when a change comes and one moves forward. I think of the paper I will make with some of the sawdust, of the table-top we will make from one of the more unusual slices from the trunk, of the stick that is now in my office. As with everything else in this world, it will live on, in memory and in pieces around our home.
Still, it bothers me to see trees come down. Regardless of the reason. My heart hurts. |
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dejavu_BIG computerprobs  writes: A second Anthology, how fantastic! It is also such a great way to give back to our community!
Quick-Quill  says: YEA!!! I will have to get right on this! I can't wait to see if I have something worthy of submission.
And have you submitted yet??? Time's a wasting!
********************************************************************************************
Welcome to the 2014 Writing.Com Anthology Information page.
Due to the high number of requests from WdC members since our last Anthology, we at Wynwidyn Press have decided to do a 2014 Anthology as well! For the purposes of this book, No piece submitted may be above a 18+ rating on site. All pieces MUST be part of your portfolio and must remain there as we will be providing bitems in the anthology along with your user name so folks can find you and your work on Writing.Com!
All submissions must be accompanied by a 10,000 gp donation which will be split between Random Acts of Kindness and The Angel Army here at WdC which they then use to benefit WdC members. Nice way to give back to the community we all know and love. Don't have 10k gps? You can buy them, earn them or win them. How? Entering and winning contests, reviewing, reviewing and reviewing! One of THE best ways to enhance your own writing is to read and review the works of others!
Here's the link for submissions!
You can enter poetry, short stories, articles or prose as long as they fit the following parameters.
Poetry is limited to 32 lines of poetry.
Prose/short story category is limited to 2200 words.
Word/line count must be provided and will be verified.
You have the option to submit as many pieces as you chose (each with a 10k donation,) but be advised, you will not have more than 2 - TWO pieces accepted for the anthology. This will allow both you a greater chance of having a piece or two accepted and a greater number of different writers to be accepted. This is NOT a vanity operation. All the pieces submitted will not be accepted. In the Anthology last year, the acceptance margin was roughly 40%. You DO NOT EVER HAVE to order copies to be included should your piece/s be accepted. We want the best of the WdC writers work to showcase! In keeping with this high level of expectation, all entries will be judged by a panel of WdC Judges.
The deadline for the 2014 WdC Anthology submissions will be April 15th, 2014 at11:59 pm WdC time!!!
We've been getting lots of entries, but WE NEED MORE!
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For Authors: April 09, 2014 Issue [#6254]
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