Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Falling In Love With Trees (Which Doesn't Necessarily Mean You Should Force Yourself on Them)
On my street in Portland lives a man who stares at trees.
He walks around in his old white Francis of Assisi T-shirt, his fancy red shoes, and white shorts. Sometimes he stares up at birch trees; he is known to drool over maple trees, and he cries openly when he sees an oak.
That man happens to me.
I have fallen in love with trees. I think they are the greatest thing since Ibuprofen. Sometimes the beauty of trees is too much for me and I start to cry. How can people go to war in Syria when there are so many sycamore trees in this world? How can politicians send pictures of their penises to their constituency when there is so much real love on this planet?
This man on my street is not a tree hugger though. Why? Well, for one, TREES DON'T LIKE TO GET HUGGED! They get deeply embarrassed when some new age slut walks up to them, throws his or her arms around them as if they have known each other since the Stone Age. Nobody is supposed to bond with a chestnut tree or invite it out for Happy Hour. Acknowledging it's a force for good is plenty, thank you very much!
But trees are kind, they don't want to hurt people's feelings, so they remain standing, calm branches in place, while humans rub against them with their unbalanced chakras.
Trees have dignity. They remain sane when we don't. And I want them around me till the day I die.