It is always sad to see a majestic tree taken down. Our recent ice storm in the Blacksburg area took a heavy toll on old, giant oak trees.
from AI:
Elegy for a Fallen Tree
O grand sentinel of the earth, now still, Your once-mighty arms no longer brush the sky; In quiet decay, your essence lies unfulfilled Where once your leaves danced to the season’s sigh.
You offered shade to wandering dreams, Beneath your boughs, whispered secrets of the wind; The world now holds a silence, it seems, Where your tender, living memory had thinned.
The scars upon your weathered bark Tell tales of storms, of sun, of endless rain, But now the silence echoes in the dark— A lament, a sorrow, a deep-rooted pain.
Yet in your loss, the earth still sings, For every fallen tree seeds hope anew; Your spirit lingers in each breeze that clings To the promise that life forever renews.
May we remember you, dear ancient friend, For in every ending, a new beginning is sown; Your legacy, like the winds, shall never end— In each tender sprout, your love is known.
I'm sorry book three never made it into print - I know it would have been as wondrous as the previous two. The writing and the photographs in this piece were both excellent, and much enjoyed.
That piece came from a time when, with the idea of an intentionally-written book rather than a collection of essays and blog post, I had removed my self-imposed 500 word limit that was appropriate for blog readers of the day. I would allow my thoughts and words to range a bit more widely. I remember the joy of writing this celebration of a way of life we had back then, knowing there would come a day when the story would be a pleasant memory of another time. And here we are in that day--this memory being the wood from the stacks cut years before, warming us in the present.
It is always sad to see a majestic tree taken down. Our recent ice storm in the Blacksburg area took a heavy toll on old, giant oak trees.
from AI:
Elegy for a Fallen Tree
O grand sentinel of the earth, now still, Your once-mighty arms no longer brush the sky; In quiet decay, your essence lies unfulfilled Where once your leaves danced to the season’s sigh.
You offered shade to wandering dreams, Beneath your boughs, whispered secrets of the wind; The world now holds a silence, it seems, Where your tender, living memory had thinned.
The scars upon your weathered bark Tell tales of storms, of sun, of endless rain, But now the silence echoes in the dark— A lament, a sorrow, a deep-rooted pain.
Yet in your loss, the earth still sings, For every fallen tree seeds hope anew; Your spirit lingers in each breeze that clings To the promise that life forever renews.
May we remember you, dear ancient friend, For in every ending, a new beginning is sown; Your legacy, like the winds, shall never end— In each tender sprout, your love is known.
Just Lovely
I'm sorry book three never made it into print - I know it would have been as wondrous as the previous two. The writing and the photographs in this piece were both excellent, and much enjoyed.
What an enjoyable entry Fred! The story and the photos both. Thank you!
That piece came from a time when, with the idea of an intentionally-written book rather than a collection of essays and blog post, I had removed my self-imposed 500 word limit that was appropriate for blog readers of the day. I would allow my thoughts and words to range a bit more widely. I remember the joy of writing this celebration of a way of life we had back then, knowing there would come a day when the story would be a pleasant memory of another time. And here we are in that day--this memory being the wood from the stacks cut years before, warming us in the present.