Tall, graceful, stoic, sure. Trees mark the surety of one season’s end and another’s beginning. Full green leaves, to burnt oranges and reds, then bare windy branches until tiny buds burst under the sunshine. My favorite are Aspens. I love their rounded leaves that glitter like gold coins in the sun. Though it’s been years since I’ve lived near an Aspen, I can perfectly recall the sound of wind in Aspen leaves and find myself lost in memories of home.
Do you have a favorite tree? Or a fond memory of a tree? The smell of pine on a cold night reminds me of the night I told my parents I was getting married.