Me and the Tree
Coming up the drive, it’s easy to see that both of my Mountain Laurels were bit hard by the recent winter freeze that devastated most of Texas. The one on the left, being more exposed, took a particularly hard blow. Half of its branches were covered in dead leaves and are now nearly bare as the leaves fell to the ground. But trees are hardy creatures.
Yesterday, as I was doing my daily inspection, I noticed the nodes on those bare branches were bringing forth buds, leaves and new branches. Life. It made we marvel at the complicated goings on beneath the bark as the freeze hit and the new bits died and then the sun returned warming the system, setting it in motion once again to bloom and grow. I love the mystery of how the tree knows what to do. Little bits of code in its genes sensitive to cold and heat and hours in the sun, and rain too, when it falls. And part of that code says, go slow, which is why the tree takes it’s time becoming a tree.
It’s possible, even, to imagine the tree thinking. Shutting down it’s systems when the cold hit, pulling back, going into survival mode. Making decisions. Moving energy here and there. Then, when the warmth returned, setting it all back in motion, encouraging everyone, distracted but not deterred. But that’s a bit far. It’s a tree and I’m just going to be happy with watching that tree. Knowing that somehow it’s getting along, repairing the damage that can be repaired, jettisoning dead wood, moving on, going forth. A little bit of feel good in a world where feel good is sometimes hard to come by.