I love trees. I love watching them go through the seasons – how their leaves and limbs change with the weather. How they spring back to life and blossom after the cool of the winter. How each one is slightly different, even when they are the same variety.
When I was little, I used to think the wind was generated by the trees themselves, and that was how they spoke to each other. Wind language. I was fascinated watching the wind start in one place and roll to the tree after tree. The joys of living on a farm, I guess. There are still moments of fancy when I think the trees are talking to each other.
Roots are an important thing. Science says roots in a mature tree can be 2-3 times the diameter of the crown of the tree. Roots are where the lifeblood of the tree lives. The roots. They aren’t really seen most of the time – oh, occasionally you can see some glimmers on a banyan tree or cypress. It gives perspective. Where are your roots? In whom do you trust?
Today I am starting the process of a transplant. The move to Dallas is on and will begin in earnest tomorrow. It has already mostly happened in my brain. Now it’s a matter of execution.
Thankfully, God is a good gardener. He is not bound by location or hindered with any earthly limitations. So, I’m trusting this will be a smooth transition. I want to be sturdy, strong and beautiful tree with a good harvest. If you listen closely to the breeze, you may hear me singing.