Have you ever seen the Old Man of the tree? If you are a lover of trees like I am you have probably seen a few.
He looks as if his face is coming out of the tree like the picture above. That is an un-enhanced picture.
I have noticed that there are not as many here as there were in Michigan. Perhaps they do not feel the need to be seen here. I do not know.
I have noticed that whenever I see one he looks as if he is in pain. Does that mean his tree is in danger? Maybe he is simply lonely and crying out for someone to notice him.
Now it may be that I see the Old Man more often than some do because I love trees so much. I have been known to stop along the road to glory in a particular tree.
Each tree has a distinct character and some seem to call to me. Sometimes it is the fullness of the tree. Sometimes it is the way the branches spread. Sometimes it is just a feeling that the tree and I connect.
Even dead trees are attractive to me. I can see what they once were. I appreciate the graceful lines that are still visible and envision what they might have looked like.
I close with a well-known poem by Joyce Kilmer.
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.