I was sitting in the backyard on an unseasonably warm evening burning old branches in the fire pit. We have enormous oak trees in our yard that drop thousands of acorns and the occasional big branch, on this night, pockets of sky shown through the canopy and the stars were putting on a brilliant display.
The trees in our yard are enormous, at least by Pennsylvania standards. One of our giant oak trees is regarded as “historic”. The historic tree is in the front yard, right next to the road with a little plaque in front of it that states that it is a historic tree from the 1870’s.
These old trees are pretty beautiful, but we sometimes worry about the possibility of one falling over and crashing into our house, our fence, or neighbor’s house. These giants could do immense damage to something or someone, perhaps we should get them removed, but it would cost a small fortune.
Then I thought that the tree would find my musings very amusing.
“Who does this little guy think he is, this 38 year old boy with a bad back, is worrying about me? Worrying about me falling over and damaging his house? I have been around for 146 years, I weigh tens of thousands of pounds, I’m a gosh darn oak tree, solid. He should worry more about his self and hope he lives half as long as me, I’ll be fine.”