save the trees

I'm a bit of a hippie, I guess. In addition to my desire for world peace and love-not-war, I want to preserve some (if not all) of the world's natural beauty so my kids get to see and enjoy the blue sky and forests and clear running streams. Today, I had a tree-hugger moment...

For the last few years, I've pulled up to my office and been greeted by this fabulous tree. Dead, yes. But the majesty of its branches against the sky is always exaggerated by the season, the sunrise, the sunset, a snowfall. It changes but it's always powerful and beautiful.

The rustic barn, the tall grass field and the worn fences serve as a canvas for this bit of art. For many months there were two horses that circled this statuesque tree, adding their equine glamour and peaceful demeanor to the barren beauty of the tree. It's hard to capture in words the impact that this tree, even without leaves and life, has had on me and everyone in our office for the past few years.

So today, when they started ripping down all the trees in the yard that belongs to this tree, with a huge yellow backhoe thing, I was unnerved. As were a lot of people in our office. People stood at the windows watching huge yellow machines crush these lovely, gigantic old trees that were overgrown and half-dead but still majestic and important somehow. And it was a little tragic. We took pictures. And videos. And likened "our" trees to the Ents from Lord of the Rings. How did they feel about this travesty? Were they sad, angry, violated, vengeful? For us humans, there was sadness. There were even tears. There was mourning for this beautiful view we've enjoyed for so long and depression about the "zoned for commercial" buildings and expansive asphalt parking lot that we are certain will replace them. 

It took five minutes to demolish "my" tree's twin.
Five minutes for 50+ years.

I hope, for myself and my children and their children, that someday we find a balance between commerce and development and nature and beauty. I loved this field, especially when the horses were there and they'd walk up to the fence hoping for nothing more than a carrot or an old apple. And I loved this tree because it always reminded me that even when you're dead you can still inspire people with beauty and poetry and character. I loved that every day when I walked into a corporate world, there was this superbly human, basic, natural, majestic moment right outside the door to remind me why I was walking into a world of cubicles and meetings.

So good-bye beautiful trees. You were loved. You will be missed. And we will be better. I hope.