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
WHEN THE LAND is swallowed up by cults and conspiracies; when weak men pretend to be strong and fools pretend to be wise; when all is pretense leavened with hate; then it is good to spend time among trees. Small trees or big trees, it does not matter. All that matters is that they are real. And honest. All that
THERE ARE A NUMBER of goals or concepts in the world of bonsai. Beauty. Grace. Symmetry. The interweaving between between nature and living art. And things that are harder to describe. Part of it is recreating in miniature the effect of a large, old tree. Weathered and bent, perhaps, but still strong. I rescued this little juniper, now about 10”
SOMETIMES, rising in the morning, simply going out the cabin door and looking up… is enough to begin the day with perspective. Peace. Inspiration. As Aldo Leopold said, “I love all trees. But I am in love with pines.” It is good to live in the company of trees.