ery shape and size is testament to that. In all their imperfections, they are perfect. I don't think I've ever come across an ugly tree, unless its a chopped up piece of log. I'd love to wax lyrical on the beauty and grandeur of these majestic things but I probably won't do them justice. I can feel it, but don't possess the power to translate them into words, more is the pity. During my childhood (and sometimes even now) I've longed and longed for a tree house. Longed to be one of those young Western boys and girls who spend their waking hours (or so it seems) climbing trees, building tree houses, going camping and picnicking in the woods and generally engaging in such wholesome frolics that are far beyond the reach of us modern age kids. Oh, the folly of Enid Blyton for causing us to harbour such tender, foolish dreams which can never be realised. I always thought I was born in the wrong era. But I suppose those aforesaid boys and girls would envy us our modern gadgets. So, I have to be contented with what I have and suppress the thought that the grass may be greener on the other side. And comfort myself with the fact that I live very near lots and lots of trees, a whole jungle actually and that the government regards it as a sort of tourist(?) area and have not marked the land for clearing. Yet.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
# 016 Of trees galore!
I love trees. Crooked, straight, bent, old, young, gnarled, shady, contorted, leafy... You name it, I love it. There's just something about them, something so human, and when the wind blows and the leaves are all a-rustling, I swear it seems they're talking in their own secret language. Of course, it doesn't help that their branches look like hands, and if you stare long enough at the contours on their great trunks, you could probably make out shapes of faces. Trees can be such a comfort, you know. Whenever I used to feel down or just out of it, I would cycle to a particular part of the road outside my house where the tall trees formed a sort of canopy high above my head and just go round and round there on my bike. It was a great cure for my romantic soul, sitting there amidst the trees =] I think they are one of God's greatest creations. The very fact that they are so beautiful in ev
ery shape and size is testament to that. In all their imperfections, they are perfect. I don't think I've ever come across an ugly tree, unless its a chopped up piece of log. I'd love to wax lyrical on the beauty and grandeur of these majestic things but I probably won't do them justice. I can feel it, but don't possess the power to translate them into words, more is the pity. During my childhood (and sometimes even now) I've longed and longed for a tree house. Longed to be one of those young Western boys and girls who spend their waking hours (or so it seems) climbing trees, building tree houses, going camping and picnicking in the woods and generally engaging in such wholesome frolics that are far beyond the reach of us modern age kids. Oh, the folly of Enid Blyton for causing us to harbour such tender, foolish dreams which can never be realised. I always thought I was born in the wrong era. But I suppose those aforesaid boys and girls would envy us our modern gadgets. So, I have to be contented with what I have and suppress the thought that the grass may be greener on the other side. And comfort myself with the fact that I live very near lots and lots of trees, a whole jungle actually and that the government regards it as a sort of tourist(?) area and have not marked the land for clearing. Yet.
ery shape and size is testament to that. In all their imperfections, they are perfect. I don't think I've ever come across an ugly tree, unless its a chopped up piece of log. I'd love to wax lyrical on the beauty and grandeur of these majestic things but I probably won't do them justice. I can feel it, but don't possess the power to translate them into words, more is the pity. During my childhood (and sometimes even now) I've longed and longed for a tree house. Longed to be one of those young Western boys and girls who spend their waking hours (or so it seems) climbing trees, building tree houses, going camping and picnicking in the woods and generally engaging in such wholesome frolics that are far beyond the reach of us modern age kids. Oh, the folly of Enid Blyton for causing us to harbour such tender, foolish dreams which can never be realised. I always thought I was born in the wrong era. But I suppose those aforesaid boys and girls would envy us our modern gadgets. So, I have to be contented with what I have and suppress the thought that the grass may be greener on the other side. And comfort myself with the fact that I live very near lots and lots of trees, a whole jungle actually and that the government regards it as a sort of tourist(?) area and have not marked the land for clearing. Yet.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Hi! I love my trees as well. I was talking to my blogfriend Debs the other day about English oaks. They coincidentally feature on a video I posted up on my newly opened "Video Blog" - on William Orbit's Barber's Adaggio for Strings. You should listen to it if you like good music it's fantastic. All my favourite tracks are there as well. Plus there are some odd youtube clips - like a man with his giant pet hornet ... do drop by and tell me what you think! Hope to see you there!
All the best
Gledwood
http://gledwoodvid.blogspot.com
will definitely check it out and give you my two cents worth. thanks for dropping by!
Post a Comment