Fascination with Trees

I can’t recall a time when I was not drawn to trees. They amaze me. Day after day they change. Imagine something that grows taller and wider at such an incrementally slow pace that it is invisible to the eye.

They change with the seasons. Some burst into new life when the sun begins to shine in spring. Tiny green buds sprout forth, signaling the wonders that are to come. Those buds become leaves. All kinds of leaves, in all shapes and sizes and colors.

When I was young I collected leaves, especially the ones that from maple trees. Such broad leaves! So green in spring and summer, but when fall arrived, they morphed into shades from red to orange to brown. I loved them all.

I miss maple trees. They grew in the woods behind our house in Ohio, but not here in California. It was disappointed to discover that I would most likely never see them again.

It wasn’t just their leaves that I loved, but their seed pods. They were shaped like wings and if you tossed them as high above your head as you could manage, they would twirl down to the ground. I did this over and over, season after season, never growing tired of the display even well into my teen years when I should have moved on to other things.

In Ohio all trees shed their leaves in the fall and remain bare throughout the cold winters. Even when quite young I understood that winter was a time of rest, a time to store up energy to be ready to burst into action at the first sign of spring.

It was the same for me. In the winter I huddled inside where it was warm, venturing outside only when bundled from head to toe. Some days my breath froze on my eyebrows and hair, my teeth chattered and I thought my fingers and toes would crack and fall off.

We moved to California after my ninth grade year. The seasons here are not as differentiated as in Ohio. What we call winter is nothing to people who live in the Midwest, North or East, for there it snows and temps can drop well below freezing. Here I think it’s cold if it is below sixty.

Because our seasons are not as sharply delineated, not all trees go through the autumnal changes. Looking out my window right now, I some trees are just beginning to grow buds, some have sprouted their leaves, while many stay green throughout the year. Flowers have been blooming like crazy for weeks now and low-growing bushes are covered with leaves.

In time, all but the fir trees will lose their leaves. It is a good thing, as even in California trees need to rest, to be still so as to prepare for the wonderful gifts that are to come.

Trees that produce fruit amaze me. They are so generous, so thoughtful, even when their human caretakers are less then vigilant. Day after day apples and pears and oranges and other wonderful things ripen, all for us.

Some fruits require a little work to get inside. Some don’t. I tend to love fruit that you can bite into and have your mouth filled with sweetness, the juice spilling onto your chin. Every time I eat an apple or pear I am thankful that I am blessed with having such a marvelous thing to eat.

When I go walking around my neighborhood and see fruit growing on trees, I want to reach up, pull off just one and take a bite. But I don’t. I don’t know how needy the owners are. Perhaps that apple is their only sustenance of the day. Perhaps the orange is their only access to vitamin C. I would not want to steal that treasure from them. So I walk on.

In our neighborhood there are not as many trees as when we first moved in forty years ago. Some have died. Some have been taken down by their owners. Some removed by the city because their roots were growing into the pipes. I miss all the once grand, sprawling trees that hung out over the road creating a marvelous canopy! So beautiful. Now gone.

We get to drive through forests on our way north and east and south when we get into the mountains. I love to look at the trees, how magically they grow out of rock and cling to the sides of granite cliffs as if they were meant to be there. When the sun shines on them they are a wonderfully deep green.  They sing with life! And when you get close enough you can take in their rich aroma, like sticking your head in a cedar chest from long ago.

When they are covered with snow it is a picture straight from Christmas cards. I imagine myself riding on a horse-drawn sleigh under their boughs and having dollops of snow fall on my head as I lean back laughing. I have never done this, but nevertheless I can place myself in the scene.

When I was young I did not wear glasses. Trees frightened me because I thought each and every one would fall on my head, killing me. In fourth grade my teachers demanded that I get glasses. I remember the bus ride home, looking out the window and seeing that the leaning trees no longer leaned! It was a miracle.

These are the reasons that I love trees. Not only do they defy the passing of time, but they stand tall as a reminder of all that they offer us. Beautiful colors and tasty food. I hope that I will never lose my ability to appreciate the wonderful gift that each tree is.

Tackling Projects

There have been things I’ve wanted to do but never had the time or inclination to take them on. For one reason or another I never have the time. Either I’m running off to the gym or meeting with book club friends or walking with my husband. There are a myriad of preferred activities I have at the tip of my fingers that prevent me from taking on the big projects.

Now that I my outdoor activities are limited to quick trips to the grocery, walking with a friend while maintain six feet of separation or neighborhood with my husband, I have run out of excuses.

This week I decided to sort through all the music CDs I have bought and stored over the years. For a long time the cases were stuffed into a cabinet, but when that became unruly, I filed the CDs in binders and taped the cases into boxes which were stuffed under beds or stacked high in closets.

I began simply by retrieving only one box. As I reunited the CDs and cases, I reflected on whether or not I really needed to keep it or if it could go in a pile to sell at a nearby store. Amazingly enough, the majority went into the sale pile.

The next day I tackled another box. The day after that, one more. The ones I kept were numbered in the twenties. The boxes of giveaways grew taller.

The boxes high in the closet were easy to reach; the ones below the bed required gymnastics as I cannot kneel and have difficulty getting up off the floor.

As each day passed and one more bit was accomplished, my attitude changed. At first it was a tedious chore. It changed to a challenge as the cases had not been stored in any organized fashion. Country was mixed with Christian along with Pop and Christmas.

Yesterday I finished. Most CDs had the correct cases but about ten cases had no CDs! Where were the missing CDs? I have no idea. The only possibility is that I accidentally put the wrong CD in a case. But, if that is so, shouldn’t there by a CD remaining by the same artist? And shouldn’t the numbers of empty cases match the numbers of homeless CDs?

After attempting to look through the piles of giveaways, I decided to quit. I accomplished what I had set out to do. The mishmash has been cleared. The mission completed.

Now I can slowly rebuild my collection as my favorite artists release new albums. That simple thought brightens my day.

One project tackled successfully. Where do I go from here? Who knows, but at least I can chalk one off the list.