SOMETIMES LOOKING AT A TREE… I know. I get it. These are awful times. Sometimes you feel as though the ground has nearly disappeared beneath your feet. As though you can no longer remember what ‘normal’ was. As though you might be the only person you personally know who’s still sane, who still cares about things we once thought we
I HAVE SAID that every tree can be a ladder to the stars, reminding us of who we are and of the unspeakable beauty of this planet on which we live. This first photo epitomizes that to me. Kathy and I found this dendritic statuary, these grand pillars of life, yesterday in a local woods. Perhaps our last stroll through
THE CHURCH O’ THE PINES is a forest, on the shore of the Father of Waters, the Mississippi. There are many wonderful things about a forest, and one of the finest is… well… trees. And here at our Church we are blessed with many. Trees have much to recommend them. Shade in the summer, shelter in the winter. Food and
‘ONCE, IN A BEAUTIFUL, FAR AWAY LAND, that was, somehow, not so very far… A land where every stone was a teacher and every breeze a language, where every lake was a mirror and every tree a ladder to the stars…’ (From Old Turtle and the Broken Truth) We are born into this land, into such a world. But oftentimes,
‘THERE SHOULD BE at least a room, or some corner where no one will find you and disturb you and notice you. You should be able to untether yourself from the world and set yourself free, losing all the fine strings and strands of tension that bind you, by sight, by sound, by thought, to the presence of others.’ Thomas
THERE IS A PATH I know that leads to the most marvelous series of trees. Northern White Cedar, Arborvitae. Their roots stretch and reach over bedrock—anchoring, holding fast to the earth. To life. I know other paths, many of them, that lead to shadowed haunts and streams of sunlight. A great many people are hurting right now, burdened by doubts
THERE’S NOTHING like the smell of a forest on a misty, foggy day. Be it the Coast Redwoods or the Olympic Peninsula or the humble Church O’ The Pines. It’s a fragrance that reaches inside of you and reminds you that you are a part of everything and everything is a part of you. On a gray, monochrome day, not
IT IS, OF COURSE, altogether amazing how the entire moon can balance on the tip of a balsam bough. How is it there are so many extraordinary things in this ordinary old world? The world we think we know. There are, as Uncle Bill Shakespeare once said, more things in Heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our poor
IN THE FOREST, some things glow. Even on a cloudy, drizzly evening, half an hour before dark, they glow. Not so much from the sunlight, of which there is little, but somehow from within. A red maple Kathy and I planted twenty years ago. A redbud tree like the one my grandad and I planted and watered so faithfully, one
THIS IS AN ANCIENT Limber Pine, perhaps 3,000 years of age. Perhaps the oldest tree in all of Canada. The glorious photo was taken by my son, Bryan, on a pilgrimage to the Canadian Rockies, far off the beaten path. The image speaks deeply to me, as he knew it would… Here is a being rooted in the high ground