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...."
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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.
ReplyDeletefunny you should mention that. what are you doing in november? ;-)
ReplyDeleteTruley a bitter sweet way at looking at this sad occurrence.You allow me to not to feel as sad..with these words. Beautifully written!
ReplyDeleteThank you for stopping by Nature-trail! :) NG
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!
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