TreeIt is foolish
to let a young redwood
grow next to a house.
Even in this
one lifetime,
you will have to choose.
That great calm thing,
this clutter of soup pots and books ---
Already the first branch-tips brush at the window.
Softly, calmly, immensity taps at your life.
This poem by Jane Hirshfield came to mind a little while ago when reading an article in today's NYTimes about a group who are planting small sprouts of redwoods and sequoias. What a sense of patience of hope those people have. More power to them.
A short walk from where my daughter lives in Larkspur, California there is a house I've thopught I'd like to live in each time I've seen it, a redwood does grow beside it, and a wooden deck surrounds the tree. I'd love to sit on that deck with the tree as companion while I drink my coffee, read a book, wrote a poem.
3 comments:
One of my best memories is tramping through the John Muir Redwood Forest north of San Francisco. Love your thoughts and Jane's poem. Dianne
Nacaoches, I've been in that forest and it has a magical feel to it -- and smells wonderful on a damp morning too. Thanks for our note.
June -- Oh, I so understand your feeling about the redwood. That is why I moved to the house I now live in. I have lovely woods near and far that I can enjoy from my vantage point on my ridge. I have a large white oak tree quite close to my house that I call grandmother. The trees are the stewards of my land and I respect them. I do read and drink my coffee often in the spring and fall on my porch. -- barbara
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