Trees are a tribe.
A collection of individuals connected through their roots.
Living side by side through the seasons. Weathering all manner of storms.
Their legacy is air, food, shade and shelter.
Their bark is like skin: weathered, worn, individual.
Most trees are scarred and torn. Their branches are often twisted and pulled.
They resist perfection.
And yet, each one is perfect.
No two are alike.
I find myself wanting to know their stories.
Their history. It is written in the texture of their bark, but I do not yet know the language of trees.
All of these trees co-exist quietly together in the same forest.
We have a lot to learn from trees.
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