When a Tree Misbehaves

Sitting as a passenger, we tend to notice things that as a driver we never would. I’ve been on this road fifty or more times and with three hours into this trip and two still to go, my mind was really wandering. The sky was dark and foreboding, setting a similar mind set in me. The clouds outside gathered and roiled low, the way thick acrid smoke would collect on the ceiling of a burning house moments before descending down on its sleeping victims. The trees outside my window were covered in the perfect peppering of snow or rather a salting. From a distance the way the light and the dark contrasts played on each other, the large Sierra- Nevada valleys looked more like huge Vic Muniz sugar pictures and less like reality.

Along this route, I’m passing miles of huge trees standing tall and defiant with heads down against the snow, cold, and road pollution in no discernable order. And it occurs to me that along this road from what I can see, there long narrow swaths of lively, viable trees cut from the forest and stretch clear out of sight. What really seems odd to me is how in place of the live trees there are planted dead trees. These dead trees are skinned and all flayed to a uniform diameter. Each of these also has a horizontal cross member drilled, bolted, or nailed not too far down from the top as well. Now miles upon miles of crucified trees stretch just yards from the general population of the rest of the forest. It just seems they were put there as if in warning of the impending doom that awaits the rest … don’t step out of line or you’re next!

I remember stories of how the Romans would line the roads that lead into Rome in a similar fashion. Miles upon miles of crucified people conspirators, burglars, and those labeled as criminals all dieing while everyday people stand nearby with heads down trying not to notice and go about their lives. The people passing all knew that they were just a rumor, a whisper away from finding themselves on a post as well.

Whispers from the halls of governments, industry or arsons all pose a threat to these rebels. Rumors of the trees conspiracy to over throw the earth and encroach on our habitats cannot be tolerated.

The trees dedicated silence and constant aim for the sky makes a mockery of our own failing and convoluted ambitions. Their parenting skills call in to question or own. Under the canopy of greenery are young flexible saplings standing at their father’s roots, eternally encouraged to rise and surpass their own majesty, while receiving nourishment from the mulch of their fallen forefathers.

While sitting in that passenger seat it just seemed to me, someone cut out the good trees and planted the dead ones just to say, don’t get too comfortable … step out of line and you’re next!