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I fell asleep with my feet off the bed. I kept dreaming I was stepping onto trap doors.

Tree-ish Family

Park Tree

I am fascinated by trees. As a kindergartener, when I came home before everyone else and there was no one to play with, I would go out in my yard and hug all the trees. I imagined that they were my friends. In junior high when I read J. R. R. Tolkien's "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy, I identified with the unique character of each forest through which the characters traveled. Tolkien's personification of trees went so far as to create tree shepherds, called Ents, that could move around and even talk with the people who traveled through the forest. I rejoiced as the trees, guided by the Ents, participated in the battle against those who thoughtlessly destroyed large portions of forest.

Today, as I walked through "Old Corona", I was pleased to encounter a number of tree characters. It's warm this June. Not terribly so, but enough that I wanted a cool spot of shade as I walked. The trees were unremarkable at first, so I looked instead to cool grass under bare feet to give me a sense of refuge from the sun. While several of the grassy places were green and thriving, more were brown and sparse. The farther I walked, it seemed, the sparser the grass became, until finally it seemed the town's residents had given up entirely on grass, and left the spaces under their short trees completely bare. Not even a weed or small flower grew beneath these shady spaces.

Georgia

In other spots, grand trees commanded their surroundings. I met several of these great trees: not fancy palms such as grow in my neighborhood, but humble shade trees that have simply lived undisturbed and have thrived. I viewed most of them from a distance, taking comfort from their presence, despite not benefitting directly from the coolness of their shade.

I left these old neighborhoods and entered "South Corona", the area where orange groves once stood but is now a comfortable subdivision for commuting working families. All of the grass on the sides of the walkways was lush and green. Trees lined the road at regular intervals, shading the sidewalks. On the "house side" of the sidewalks, a beautiful variety of bushes, flowers, and vines covered the ground. And, although I saw only a handful of people during the whole of my walk, I felt that I had been in good company among the trees of Old Corona. In South Corona, I was grateful for the continuous shade.

Belgian Forest*

I remembered then the trees in all the places I've lived. After high school I lived near a park with large trees good for sitting in and reading a book. They just felt like trees -- pleasant enough but no character worth noting. In Belgium the forests were surreal in the sense that you imagine those types of trees only exist in paintings. The trees were intentionally spaced, with little undergrowth, and branches that seemed to be shaped in perfect symmetry. Even the spiderwebs between the branches caught the dew and held the glistening drops like something out of a fairy story.

The trees in Pinehurst were tall and noble. They grew so tall and straight before branching out that they were used as masts for Mother England's sailing ships. They seemed to be secure as a family of trees, without noticing much of the people far below.

Pinehurst

In Georgia the forest behind our house was young and wild. There was no camaraderie between the trees, the tangled undergrowth, the animals, or the people.

My growth in terms of the different stages of family life resembles each of these groups of trees. As a young child I was like the wild Georgian forest, with no appreciation of the protection and pleasant company my companions. My teenage mind envisioned the future to be like the unnaturally regular Belgian forests. My college years were pleasant, good for reading books in, like the trees in the park.

Then, as a young adult, I began to appreciate the strength of belonging to a family, like the tall and noble trees in Pinehurst. Finally as I begin to establish myself firmly in adulthood, I find myself with (at least) two choices. I can fal in line along the main path like the South Corona trees. Or I can find a place of my own and stand alone, not in the company of those who are like me, but offering security and age-tested comfort to any who come in my space.



*Note - I borrowed this picture from an image search on Google images / genieo images. I could not determine the original source. If it is copyrighted and the owner does not wish it to be here, please let me know.