The Lost Trees Last Stand

 

graveyard slate filter

Graveyard at Indian Cave State Park

Upright tombstone

Major's Homestead

Hallowed be the lost trees!

Blessed be the rest

in the sweet

by + by

UT

 

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The Imp Path

The Imp Of Ivy

Tickling her way through the moss in the Spring
young imp bursts forth into the light of day
Winding a path from the trunk to the crown
by Summer’s end she will be free to kiss the sky
Ivy ympe 
Waving in the wind and waltzing in the rain
she feels for her ancient oak, making his life sensational
Her ecstatic cling informs his essential being
Thus he knows in the densest way just why his sap stirs so

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Hesse: For Trees Eyes Only

a favorite author Hesse

“For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfil themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured.”

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