There's rosemary, that's for remembrance.
William Shakespeare: Hamlet, Prince of Denmark

Thursday, November 02, 2006

Turning point

In my neck of the woods, the Tamarack is the last tree to turn and drop its' needles.

The Tamarack is a tall, thin tree with branches that breathe and give its' sibling arms lots of room. If it shares space with another tree...a pine, Hemlock or Cedar... it will stay bare on the shared side.....a nice tree.

When the Tamarack finally turns I know winter is just around the corner. I was out with the dogs yesterday and the two Tamaracks that are close to the house have started dropping their needles. All around the base of the trees it looks like God has dropped angel dust; bright orange angel dust that will blow away if I breathe too hard or too close. There was a fallen branch and I picked it up. Just looking at the needles, I thought they would be sharp and hurt if I stuck myself, but they were fooling me. They are as soft and gentle as my kitties fur. The needles surround the branch like spun gold and when I touched the branch the needles gently fell off and slowly drifted to join the pool of family needles on the ground.

Every morning and every evening my forest is there. If I look out the window, there it is faithful and strong. I wonder if my forest trees have feelings, know that they are taken for granted by me and weep sap to show me they want to be acknowledged and loved. I talked to that Tamarack yesterday and told it I love its' soft needles, its loyality and reliability.

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