Minkgirl Muses

One of my earliest childhood memories is of traipsing around the Audubon Society preserve in eastern Pennsylvania with my mother. She was a botanist and knew the Latin name for every flower. We hunted together for crocuses, jack-in-the-pulpits, wild iris and wild lilies. I loved following the familiar trails of the preserve, which were marked with blue blazes, up and over the hill, past the cave, to the meadow and back. But what I loved most were the trees. There were more kinds of trees in this preserve that I could count – curious birches, stately Douglas pines, giant Oaks, slender elms, and scrubby myrtles. In the fall, the entire forest would turn vermilion, burnt orange, and umber. I felt safe among the trees. And blessed. Some people say nature is their church. For me, the divine is most accessible in a stand of tall trees.

I think “Deciduous” and “Coniferous” were the first scientific terms I ever learned. When I was 10, and not particularly popular, I spent hours reading while lying on the strong horizontal branches of the cherry trees lining our yard. I whispered my pre-adolescent secrets to those trees. They felt like old friends. As an adult, I have often thought that no matter what happens to me, no matter what physical or emotional ailment I am afflicted by, I will be alright as long as I have a window to look out of with a slice of sky and a tree in view. Trees are eternal. Like the ocean, they remind me of the value of just “being”.

Photo by Me (Muir Woods, February 2010)

Labels: Gratitude Project

# posted by Christine Young @ 8:58 PM