'in the days when we were swinging from the trees'

i live in an area that has, for the past several years, been noted nationally as the fastest growing part of my state. i grew up here. the town consisted of about three streets and the houses were all at least 20 years old. they were set in yards that each had at least two mature trees reaching skyward.

i love this town. well, i at least have a very deep affinity for it. despite the fact there is now a new elementary school being built every two years, the traffic now requires expanded lanes and signal lights, and the long held argument that "why, this town could never support a grocery store!" has been tempered by the fact that there are now four within a two minute radius of each other.

what i miss, though, in this rapid growth environment, are the trees. the trees that grow in my mom's front yard, just two minutes from my house, are still there. no one knows this until now, but every time i see them, i see me at the age of 14, sitting under the shade of the far right tree and writing. or wishing for things i knew weren't going to come true.

i didn't realize i had such a fondness for trees until settling in this area. new housing developments, strip malls and schools grow here faster than trees ever will. many beautiful, mature trees are taken out each spring when the building season kicks in again. they're taken out to build developments that are then named after trees.

oakmoore. flowing pines. maple grove.

new residents then move in and park their hummers and escalades along streets named maple drive and elm street.

ok. i don't love trees in a matthew mcconaughey "let's get naked and beat on bongos" kind of way. and i'm pretty sure his reasons for doing such things go far beyond digging trees. but i do find myself drawn to their shape and colors and i have a respectable amazement for how long they live.
years ago, in the midst of a depression battle so great i could recognize nothing but my own darkness, i met with a psychologist who told me i'd crawl out of this anger and confusion if i simply took time to find a tree. find a tree that i connected with and spend time with it, she said. "go ahead and hug it if you want," she suggested. "what would be the harm?"

i remember sitting across the room from her at the time, looking at her blankly and thinking how absurd she sounded. inside my head, i was screaming "you've got to be kidding me! where are your credentials? i'll never come back here again!"

every time i see a tree that strikes me as gorgeous now, though, i remember her words. it may be silly, but there is a part of me that does, in fact, calm down a little bit then, and i remember how utterly amazing the view can be. it's like a renewal.

it's been raining here for the past three days straight, which i suppose is great if you're me and not a farmer. things that have been dormant for winter are truly starting to emerge. on monday afternoon, as i stood at my kitchen sink doing some mundane task and taking in the first of the week's afternoon silences, i looked out the window and noticed that our trees, tiny when we moved here nearly seven years ago and now growing as fast as my children, were finally starting to bud. i love that tiny window of time when you notice this and then a few days later the trees seem lush and full. so i stopped what i was doing and went out to capture the image on the right. call it silly, but i love everything about that capture, from the color of the sky to the emerging green of the leaves.

it was in a moment of tuned out ignorance as i drove home from town one late afternoon that i noticed the scene captured in the top photo as i drove down the road. i didn't get out and hug the tree, of course, but i stopped the car, remembered i had a camera with me, and then sat there a bit after capturing the photo. i love the colors of that shot, as well, but what makes it even more interesting to me is the tangle of branches bent around the other. i can't explain why that strikes me other than to say that sometimes i feel like that tangle. lots of places to go and things to accomplish, but no real sense of direction. i'm sure people driving past me, who saw me standing out my by mini and just looking toward the tree and the setting sun, thought it strange. at least one or two did, at least, since i'm pretty sure the world doesn't revolve around me (and what's up with that, anyway?!) but i was taking time to wish for things that i know won't come true. but i was also remembering to say thanks for them, even though.