Tag Archives: Trees

Tolerance Taught By A Tree

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Hello all. The inception of this blog was to always project authenticity and truth. It is for that reason that I am sharing with you that this post is from my former blog, My Punch Line. Illness took me down this week and self care has allowed me to forego writing much. Although this was written during the summer months, I hope the thought of tolerance speaks to you.

I never cared for the red leaf tree in my back yard.  I will admit, although I love to be surrounded by nature, I am not always certain of the name of the vegetation whose company I am keeping.  It’s ironic that after growing up during the era of the Walton’s, and enjoying hearing their Grandfather share the beauty of the mountain’s natural surroundings, nothing was retained.  To this day I am not certain what trailing arbutus is.  Our grandfather lived with us and we too enjoyed having three generations under one roof.  Grandpop could peel an apple with the precision of a surgeon and would lay out a pristine garden every year, but not once do I ever recall him sharing the name of the green growth encircling us.

The red leaf tree in my yard has been more of an annoyance than a pleasure.  Its spindly branches remind me of my curly hair, its growth unruly and uneven.  Its location does not offer welcomed shade.  My main source of aggravation is the fact that it hides the corn field behind my yard from view.  It also makes it difficult to catch a glimpse of the herds of deer that enjoy the freedom of the countryside.  So many times over the past few years I have looked at it with disgust and thought how much nicer my yard would be without it.

This morning I rose early to do some much needed yard work.  Grass had taken over my day lilies and the tenacious thistle was rearing its ugly head.  The cooler temperatures lured me out but the humidity soon sent me packing.  The previous evening brought the typical summer storm.  So much moisture in the atmosphere couldn’t be contained any longer and the rain came and drenched the heat laden land.  As the humidity remained the moisture was visible, especially on me.  Soon I could be found in my kitchen, seeking something cold to drink and a reprieve from the heat.  It was there, standing at my sink and looking out the window that I looked at my red leaf tree with a different set of eyes.

A rain drop, souvenir from the previous night, twinkled in the sun light.  This tiny drop of water was like a beacon.  Its radiance shouted out for attention and the gnarly branches and blushing leaves that held it seemed to disappear.  I thought about how timing played a role in the reveal.  I was mesmerized by this droplet and how its beauty could eliminate the distain I held for the stage from where it appeared. My movement would cause the radiance to subside but returning to the original location would again create the sparkle and brilliance.

I decided to move out to my back porch.  Although the rain drop was no longer evident from this angle the entire tree was my focus.  I have a bird feeder and suet block stationed by the tree.  Long I have watched the birds dart back and forth from the tree to the feeders.  My cats act like privileged souls, enjoying the drama unfold before them.  I caught movement higher in the branches and noted a mother robin feeding her young within the safety of a nest.  New growth on the tree shown as bright red leaves, as bright as the feathers on a male cardinal.

I realized this tree was like other aggravations in my life.  It could be that by changing my location or attitude a new appreciation could be found.  Appreciating the protection the tree offers the feathered population could lead to finding purpose among life’s other challenges.  I believe the tree still could use to be trimmed, but maybe it doesn’t have to disappear from my life completely. The blessing of a rain drop allowed me to literally move and find beauty elsewhere.  Change can be a gift.  Now cognizant that it doesn’t exist for me alone, the tree will remain.  It could be time for me to make a change but I don’t have to eliminate the source of my frustration, just relocate and appreciate it has been there for a reason. 

Timber!

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Trees provide pencils, paper and oxygen. Growing up I remember the smell of fresh lumber in the house as my father always had something under construction. During my childhood Christmases, the aroma of some type of evergreen would permeate the house. I say “some type” as I am not an expert on trees. As a young girl I enjoyed watching Here Comes the Brides. The show’s concept was built upon the trials and tribulations experienced by the single women that were brought out to Seattle to accompany the lonely lumberjacks. I didn’t learn much about the lumber business by watching because, like everyone else, I had a crush on Bobby Sherman, one of the lumberjack brothers. Later, as an adolescent, I was an avid fan of the Waltons. Their family business had them operate a saw mill. I vaguely remember them harvesting the lumber strategically and being cautious not to strip the mountain. That little gem might have caught my attention as the concept of commemorating Earth Day was taking off. To celebrate its inception, President Nixon planted a tree on the White House lawn. If I haven’t lost you yet, you may have noticed that my knowledge of trees is enough to complete one paragraph.

Fast forward to present day. Surprisingly the lumber business has frequently come to mind. This time it has nothing to do with a television show but rather my place of work. I cross the mountain each day to find myself often staring at the edges of cut trees, piled high on a flatbed truck, as I wait for the light to turn green. There have also been unfortunate delays occasionally, as a truck is unable to complete a turn onto the narrow streets. Traffic is held up until the truck can inch its way to freedom. This current experience has expanded what has been my very shallow interest where lumber is concerned.

At some point, in school, I am sure we covered trees and their internal rings. I was not a big fan of Science but I do recall the concept of each ring signified a year in the life of the tree. It’s ironic that piece of knowledge has come back to me as I am presented with actual examples on a regular basis. During a lengthy wait behind one of these trucks, I took the time to notice that the size, color and thickness of the rings would vary from tree to tree. Nature is the catalyst or culprit behind these variances. If a tree was exposed to harsh outside elements, record of it would show in the rings. Fire and drought would leave its mark. The age and history of these trees would have remained hidden, under their bark, if they hadn’t met an early demise due to the handiwork of a saw.

I think we, the human race, can compare our lives to those of trees. Our exterior can hide the history of our growth and what we have encountered. There might have been times when we experienced drought. Maybe we felt like our lives were devoid of something: love and companionship, a decent wage or living situation, or the focus needed to select a better path. Possibly we were scorched or singed by living a little too carefree or pursuing a passion that was destined to go up in smoke. If we are fortunate, we live our lives without constant challenges. Just as a tree adds its rings, time goes by and we age, adding learned lessons and wisdom with each passing year. No one knows, as it could all remain hidden like the trees. If our experience is one that allows us to continue to rack up the rings, I would suggest we follow the example set by trees. Reach for the sky. Continue to focus on what is above and always look upward, constantly striving to become stronger each year. When the time comes to count your rings I pray they are immeasurable and unique.