Sunday, September 2, 2007

A Sylvan Passing

A recent storm claimed one of the ancient oaks. To give a sense of scale, two of me could hug its trunk and still fall far short of touching, long gangly arms and all.

I wonder, as I always do at funerals, if I have any right to mourn. Perhaps, after its raucous crash, the tree sighed and settled deeply into the soil. "Ahhhhh... I've been waiting for two hundred years to lie down...."


  1. young for a hundred years, mature for a hundren years, die for a hundred years....the fate of old oaks....if they're lucky...time to plant some trees.

  2. funny you should mention that. what are you doing in november? ;-)

  3. Truley a bitter sweet way at looking at this sad occurrence.You allow me to not to feel as sad..with these words. Beautifully written!
    Thank you for stopping by Nature-trail! :) NG

  4. That's always tough. I remember reading Autobiography of a Tree when I was a teenager and feeling sad when it died. The canopy of an oak tree is the source of so much life and clean air and home to many. It's a big loss. I think I would mourn!