Warning.. this is NOT about fiber, that’s for tomorrow.
It could have been any number of things that made me anxious today as I started out on my hike through the woods. On my way to the trail, I’d passed a pile of huge, straight pine logs, at their landing, waiting to be loaded onto a truck. It made me sick, there are few enough of these tall old pines. I know about harvesting. I know. It did not matter. I found myself hurrying along along the trail to one of my favorites, a big old pine that reaches all the way up, and rested my forehead against it’s trunk. It occurred to me then, that I probably *am* a tree hugger. (And I just might be granola, too.) Then again, that might not have been the cause for my distress. There was that man that watched me get out of my car, hung around, and asked, ‘goin’ for a hike?‘ instead of getting in his own truck and driving away. Even after I took off, I could feel his eyes on my back. Instead of turning on my ipod, I left the ear plugs in my pocket and listened for a long while. At what is generally my half way point, I just quit. That’s when I knew what my problem was. It was the sound of the chainsaws. More to the point, it was the sound of the trees falling, and hitting the ground in the distance that was grinding into me. I’d been thinking about this entry for a long time, "E" is for the Ents. The subject is so close to me, that I haven’t been able to post all week thinking about it. And today, with each scream of the chainsaw, it came to a head.
The Ents are leaving middle earth. It’s true. The first time I walked *my* woods was magic. It was summer and everywhere the undergrowth was fern, green, lush, and nearly waist high. My giants were the biggest I’d ever seen. There were so many of them together in so few acres. C and I tried to wrap our arms around them. We couldn’t begin to touch each others fingertips, they were that grand. They were that old. For the past ten years, I’ve been watching them die. In the Northeast, the biologists give many reasons: acid rain, beetles, drought, …whatever. The truth is in there somewhere. The Ents are leaving.
Comments
9 responses to ““E” is for…”
You’re so right and it’s tragic. But I do love that picture of you.
Sad but true. I spent several summers on the St. John and Allagash in northern Maine. We rarely saw other groups on the river, but we heard the chainsaws and skidders all day long.
Your Ent pictures are great–I’ve always loved them, too. Our neighbors across the street took down about 4 really tall trees last week, and it still saddens me.
It’s terrifying, isn’t it, what’s happening to the forests. I wish I knew how to save them, but I can’t afford to buy all the land it would take to make a difference.
My intellect agrees with your father, but my heart worries where the Ents will go. They’re leaving Middle Earth as well. We are leaving NOTHING to our children. I also worry that the magic is dying. Can we keep it alive?
A wonderful “E” post. Wonderful and sad all at the same time. The thing I miss most out west are the trees.
That is sad, sad, sad! Perhaps you might feel a little better if you planted a few trees. Are there any little saplings on your property that you could transplant somewhere where they’re needed? Think of the White Tree of Gondor. Gandalf found a sapling in the woods and brought it back to Minas Tirith, where it was needed. Perhaps you could do the same. And don’t forget Sam planting the mallorn tree in the Shire, either. The Shire was utterly devastated, but that one small action of Sam’s went a long way towards healing the scarred land.
It is the sad fate of each generation to understand that nothing will be like it was for them. Although the only constant is change, we seem to be hard-wired for routine and routines. When it isn’t, it hurts.
I watched as ancient trees at the farm reached the end of their life – some had to be removed, others were felled by strong winds. I planted many saplings but it will be my great grand children who will see them in their greatness.