Treebeard would have liked me

I love old things. Especially old trees. I'm not usually a sympathizer with leftist ideals, but tree hugging is one I'm growing into.

I've liked them as long as I can remember, but there was a sharp spike on the liking-old-trees chart when one of the maples on the Front Lawn had to be cut down. That tree was a part of my childhood. We played Run Sheep Run and Chipmunks in its shade. It was there that Jenny told me she liked the name "Ransome" (random, but true). One summer evening I sat under that tree playing my guitar in a romantic sort of a mood (romantic like Wordsworth, not like Romeo and Juliet).

Anyway, this summer it had to come down, and I was sad.

And now I have this new reverence for old trees. You can't just go out and plant an old tree. They don't just happen. They have to have been happening for a hundred years or more. And where there is an old tree there is a distinct sense of history and security and character and roots and, well, oldness.

There's a spot near my RI house where there's a row of old trees intermingled with nearly-old ones. It makes me so happy, because I realize that someone else appreciated the existence of old trees, and planted new ones amongst the old so that they could grow up and take the place of the old ones when it was their turn to go.

And that was a source of consolation. At least if old trees have to go, there are people who will plant more trees that will one day be old. At least there is permanence in the cyclical nature of things...

And now, I need to go waste some paper or drive my terrible-gas-mileage car around. I love old trees, but I have a conservative reputation to uphold!