The things you love sometime go unnoticed until you let your mind wander or stop thinking at all. That moment came to me when I saw Pines by Donna Rosser. All of a sudden I remembered my attachment to trees. The years of laying beneath them reading, dreaming or talking with friends. The awareness that some trees and forests of the south are cathedrals reach reaching up with focused effort to be with the sun while creating pools and shadows of protection beneath their canopies. For many years I rode through and by forests and trees when I took the Silver Crescent which created a different view often blurred sometimes close as leaves and branches pressed against panes of glass. The tall pine trees were struggling in a sea of rope like plants. Then I could see the real world was just blue and green and that world was at war too. In New York I am lucky there is a strip of forest primeval across the street and below my window is a well maintained garden. In front of my apartment building there stand two magnolias. So I do not miss trees, I just never experience them until I come home. Then I walk among them look up thorough and see light.
John A Bennette

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