Damn Tree Hugger

I love trees. I especially love pictures of trees. I have several hanging up in my place and constantly want more. My true soft spot is the pictures of a tree alone on the landscape in the winter with bare branches. There is something very peaceful about a tree. Is it the long history? Survival? Letting go of the fall leaves and embracing change? Settling in for winter and ultimately a quiet renewal? Maybe, it's the flexibility of the branches swaying in the wind?


There used to be a tree in the backyard of my childhood home. I would spend hours climbing that tree. There was my special spot that I remember with such fondness. It wasn't a big tree. But, it was comfortable. It was my place to escape. No one else in my family could climb that tree. It was mine. All mine. I guess I carry a piece of that tree with me everywhere I go. It's my history. It's my survival. It's my letting go. It's my flexibility. It's my winter renewal. It's me embracing change while setting roots.

It's me.

;0)