As I stand here gazing at the behemoth conifer which allegedly pre-dates our good Lord Christ, I gain perspective. Sadly, the trees learn nothing from our encounter as if they can’t see the forest for the me(s).
I know in the grand scheme of things that I’m still a pretty new critter to scurry the surface of our Mother Earth, but the ability to embrace change and think in new ways is imperative, even if the living neighbor in question lacks a brain. Maybe I’m being kingdom-centric, but those brainless plants just aren’t poised for the future.
Now let’s talk about the pictures. The trees look glorious, don’t they? But what about the real star here, me? Where am I? Oh, yeah, it’s a real eye-twister but I’m in their absurd shadows somewhere. Must they thusly upstage me? Must they steal all the primo lighting?
Let’s leave this sordid topic by pointing out that I can see the forest for the trees (since that’s where most of them live, silly) but that the trees clearly can’t see the forest for me.
There’s a reason trees can’t vote and I’m not being a speciest or anything. They’re breathtaking and all, I suppose, but they need to know their place. Their place is in the woods, as they’ve chosen, and I guess I’ll head back towards civilization. Trees, man, who needs ’em anyhow?