The Gift of Trees

 Of all the poems I learned in high school,

I think I shall never see one lovely as a tree. 

A mother tree lifting her arms to pray. 

It is in these liminal spaces of my mind that poems slip through, like Joyce Kilmer's poem on "Trees" 

 "A tree that looks at God all day, and lifts her leafy arms to pray." I find these trees reaching out to me on country roads, in parks and walks along cement sidewalks. I talk to them when the moment arises, especially while on the golf courses that I have traversed. 

Rest in Peace dear tree
(d. 2021) 

More than any one piece of literature, Kilmer's poem left an imprint on my soul. Though Kilmer doesn't speak of laughter and grace, I find that the trees have their way of dancing with their arms, bringing smiles to our faces. (This pine tree must have had seeds that saw the Native American dancers weaving gracefully.)

With the New Year beginning and worn out worries of 2024 fading into the twilight I wanted to close the year with the beauty I sense daily from the trees. 

"A tree that in summer wears a nest of robins in her hair;"

We are fortunate that our robins never leave us in Oklahoma. We are no longer the treeless prairie as once described by the pioneers. Our trees are filled with blue jays, finches, doves, hawks, cardinals, crows, grackles and so much more. 

"Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain." 

Trees see, feel, and communicate in ways we cannot imagine. Do they weep when their arms drop in storms or a low blow from mankind? I believe they must, but it is their resiliency that I respect. 

Before we left Kansas I stopped to take a picture of this tree. A tree that withstood God knows what. For the eighteen years I traveled north and south on Monroe street through storms, ice, spring rains and dusty winds that tree stood proudly. I named her Liberty.  

I miss our black rich soil of Kansas and the blooming trees of spring, yet,  I relish the Sugar Maples and Bradford Pears in the fall when they turn from greens to yellows, oranges and reds. We watch as our Bradford Pears hold on to half-dried leaves hanging limply in the autumn winds until at last the grasses are hidden by  soft shades of red under the trees.

"A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed against the earth's sweet flowing breast:"

How is it that one line can mean so much when we see it actually happening right before our eyes. Life is so full of delight and surprise. 

Her home is hidden in Governor Dodge State Park,
Dodgeville,  Wisconsin

Once a year a tree in our neighborhood brings awe and joy to those who find him. He dresses in glowing white lights and casts his eyes upon us with a guiding light to all.  May you all enjoy the gift of our trees in the days and years to come. 

"Poems are made by fools like me,

but only God can make a tree." 

A Funny Ending After All

Between Braum's malts, with an extra dip of malt please, hitting golf balls on the driving range, and walking, I let go of all things that consumed my gut earlier this month.  This only took a day of my life and lots of laughter therapy at myself, and then I read this cartoon. "Autumn shows us how beautiful it is to let things go." I could have played in the leaves and forgotten everything instantly.  *Previous blog link Looking for a Funny Ending

Except our leaves haven't fallen and now we have a snow and ice storm tearing our tress apart. This is why Oklahoman's have such a humorous backbone when it comes to weather. It is, after all, October 26. Why should we be surprised at icy roads and closed schools?

The computer is no longer in danger of a dastardly virus, and so far we haven't caught a virus either. Best of all my new car adventures reached closure with the purchase of "Helen Reddy."

2020 Ford Escape

This purchase reminded me again of how resolute we women need to be when taking on the world of car buying. After I relaxed from three days of golf competition, I returned to the computer for info on new smaller SUV's.  I also queried women friends who had newer cars with safety and technological advances.  Then I put together a list of what I wanted and what I didn't need. I didn't need all of the space I once needed for golf adventures across Kansas and Oklahoma. I needed new safety features and wanted a sporty color, not white, not black, not gray.

Within three days, the dealership worked with me and found a red Ford Escape. Only people who are five foot five or shorter might appreciate the most important feature on my new car, the seat belt that crosses my chest fits me. For decades I wore the seat belt under my left arm, knowing that on impact I would crush my left boob, my lungs, and my heart and die! Now I feel safer than ever. 

Owning a new car and with confounding technology, like remote start, travel apps, audio messaging, warning systems that light up without explanation, means that I have to learn to drive all over again. 

Let's start with the beginning. Immediate success doesn't happen when learning how to start the car with NO ignition switch. My right hand is trained to insert a key, not push a button; trained to reach for a gear shift, not a shift dial; and besides that the car runs so quietly that I can't tell if it is running or not. Older cars can be heard.

My weekend reading highlights included "Memory Function." It seems my car knows more than I do. "Intelligent Access Remote Entry Icons"-- directions that anyone can follow IF they've done it before. The cold temperatures yesterday pushed me to read and learn how to use the remote start, but now I need to know how to program myself or "smart phone" to warm the seats and the steering wheel before I get in. (Matthew please come home from New York and teach me how to be as smart as my car and phone.)  "Intelligent Access" but nowhere does it explain the training involved in changing the mind of a woman who could still start a car with a clutch and run it through the gears. Best laugh of technical reading: The index refers to a "bonnet lock." Where was this when the pioneer women needed it?

My favorite technology is a BLIS (Blind Spot Information System). Even after cataract surgery I worried that my eyes might not see a small car coming along side of me. Now my car tells me with orange flashing indicator lights on the side mirrors when a car is in the blind spot. Relief!

 Somewhere on the car the book tells me I have a "panic" button. Where was that panic button when my car vibrated and tightened the steering wheel when I was test driving the car? The manual tells me to use the panic button only in case of a "Post Crash Alert." I hope I never have to learn that system. 

1972 Capitol Records

Sadly, I can't play my Helen Reddy music.  A new challenge of learning how to upload or download music to the cloud creates a sense of stress. Yes, Sirius plays my music until the contract runs out. I can plug in my EYE phone and listen to Pandora, but I have
no EYEdea of how to listen to my favorite CD music. Turning my head to the right of my computer, I see three shelves of CD'S. Oops, and a pile of records.  What to do?

I think I will simply listen to the ice hit the roof,  watch the house finches flutter around the bird feeder, hope that our trees are strong enough to withstand a freak winter storm, and give thanks for all we have. 

Ironically, in a time of smart phones and cars, we still need candles and matches lined up on the kitchen counter, just in case the power and brilliance of our world goes out. It must still be 2020. 

The End. 

The Never Ending Story/Storm rages on....

A Statue to the Seasons

I stood alone on the plains and learned to bend at the whims of the winds.  In the beginning I was a little whippet of a tree.  My roots were shallow allowing me to drink in the water from the frequent spring rains.  I grew so quickly that my trunk did not expand and grow to give me the strength I needed to withstand the harsh winds and winters on the plains, so I leaned away from the winds until at last my trunk could stand tall and grow towards the clouds.  Then, I stood strong.  I knew to grow toward the clouds, the ever changing scenes they cast gave me strength and willpower.   I survived the storms and my family grew all around me creating a circle of cottonwoods all learning to dance while young and supple.  



The twins grew together west of my corner on the field, fighting for survival against the same elements I battled, and  yet, like a proud father I surveyed the lands and watched my saplings grow and change with seasons.    Droughts occurred and I stood still in the heat, my roots pushed and groaned through the dry black soil in search of water.  I let my leaves turn yellow and drop early to the ground in the seasons without rains.  

One year the rains turned to ice before my top heavy leaves dropped to the ground.  During the frozen night I felt as my spine cracked, groaned, and split, but still I stood strong.  More seasons passed as I stood broken and split and I waved and watched as animals on two legs, four legs, and those on wings came my way.  Noises often caused my branches to bend in search of meows and growls.  Many animals called me home and I protected them from the winds, cold, rains, and other animals. 

More seasons passed, and one spring as I gazed over the prairie as the sunset blazed and roared approaching me, not setting behind the lands end.  The deer ran, the birds took flight, the mice buried themselves deep between my roots, but I stood strong.  When it bit me, it felt like nothing I'd ever experienced.  It was a hot scorching flame that burned me and my family.  My browns turned black.

 My green leaves popped and burst and were swept into the ashen air.  When at last the burning sensation set I was stiff, stricken with pain.  The young sprouts around me were tiny black sticks still standing and pointing toward the clouds.




The rains came back followed by the whims of the winds, and I stood strong.  Once again the green grass grew tall on the prairie and I guarded those who needed shelter.  It was the season of brown grass and cold North winds that took its toll on my broken body causing me to fall.  My frozen limbs were no match for the endless days of snow and ice.  One night I felt the crack and suddenly the ground caught my limbs and heavy trunk.  

Now, I remain a statue now to the seasons, to those I protected, and to those who glanced my way.

Facing NE.  It stood like this for several years.

Bethany Krafels took this shot facing West.
Amazing isn't it, the influence of ONE tree.