TREES ARE EVERYTHING  I long to be:  deep, tall, gorgeous, hospitable, and unapologetically assertive as they stretch upward in hungry yearning for the sky.  Trees are like souls, fat souls, lively souls, and like us, they change.  They just can’t stay the same.  No one ever wrote in the school year book of a tree “Never change,” for that would be the silliest idea for a tree (and for people, too).  For trees are all about change and growth and loss and rebirth.  But they don’t mind—they really don’t.  In fact, trees are monuments to gratitude and worthy of recognition at Thanksgiving. That’s because trees are wise and grateful even in late autumn when their leaves fall off, yes, even while they are shivering and naked and vulnerable and quite lacking in leafy frills and fruit.  They may prefer to be  green or vermilion or yellow-gold or studded with ripe, red berries–who wouldn’t?–but still, they appreciate what the emptiness reveals. . . .  To continue reading this post, click here. 🙂