Poem, Text & Pics by Barb Jenks Triffon
Beauty by Jeffrey Woods & Mother Nature
Trees of all shapes, sizes and types are currently the main attraction in the woods these days. Not like they ever took a back seat, but fall is definitely their time for a center stage performance.
“I cannot endure to waste anything so precious as autumnal sunshine by staying in the house." ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne
“I cannot endure to waste anything so precious as autumnal sunshine by staying in the house." ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne
For a few passing moments every year, all nature seems to bow their heads to the grandeur and beauty of trees.
Forest plants bend and wither in their presence, woodland animals sit at their base eating dropped seeds, and crisp winds whistle through their branches with autumn songs.
As for me, I just stand motionless and gawk in awe and quiet reverence.
Fall is not only a great time to be WOWED by remarkable woodland colors, but also to become more familiar with the individual trees that make the woods such a magical destination.
“To dwellers in a wood, almost every species of tree has its voice as well as its feature.”
~ Thomas Hardy
Forest plants bend and wither in their presence, woodland animals sit at their base eating dropped seeds, and crisp winds whistle through their branches with autumn songs.
As for me, I just stand motionless and gawk in awe and quiet reverence.
Fall is not only a great time to be WOWED by remarkable woodland colors, but also to become more familiar with the individual trees that make the woods such a magical destination.
“To dwellers in a wood, almost every species of tree has its voice as well as its feature.”
~ Thomas Hardy
Once you really look at a tree, their individual appearance, character and, some might say, personality become so apparent you’ll wonder how you missed it in the first place.
Some trees are small and spindly with delicate spring blossoms and fragrances like tiny ballerinas, while others stand straight and strong with unpleasant aromas like an old troll.
Mighty sycamores have developed massive trunks against life’s hardships reminding me of an old and gnarly heavy-weight boxer, while wispy willows bend and flow with life’s adversity - similar to a soulful, interpretive dancer.
Once you start imagining a tree's character, it's becomes a fun mind-game that's hard to stop. You'll quickly learn that each and all have their own way of living, contributing and sharing.
Some trees are small and spindly with delicate spring blossoms and fragrances like tiny ballerinas, while others stand straight and strong with unpleasant aromas like an old troll.
Mighty sycamores have developed massive trunks against life’s hardships reminding me of an old and gnarly heavy-weight boxer, while wispy willows bend and flow with life’s adversity - similar to a soulful, interpretive dancer.
Once you start imagining a tree's character, it's becomes a fun mind-game that's hard to stop. You'll quickly learn that each and all have their own way of living, contributing and sharing.
And while I appreciate the gifts and presence of all trees, one of my favorites in Jeffrey Woods is a very special oak.
I am not only drawn to this old tree’s leafy embrace, but also to its ability to survive life’s good and bad times for more than 100 years – a true comfort as I also grow older.
I mean, anything with a century of living to its credit deserves my admiration and excites my curiosity.
When this tree was born, cars were a rare luxury, televisions and computers a dream and penicillin not yet discovered.
I can’t help but wonder, what and who this tree has seen throughout the the last century? Who played under its branches and/or sought it out during times of sorrow?
On many occasions and in many moods, I’ve visited this dear woodland friend and have always left with a sense of peace – if not joy.
I am not only drawn to this old tree’s leafy embrace, but also to its ability to survive life’s good and bad times for more than 100 years – a true comfort as I also grow older.
I mean, anything with a century of living to its credit deserves my admiration and excites my curiosity.
When this tree was born, cars were a rare luxury, televisions and computers a dream and penicillin not yet discovered.
I can’t help but wonder, what and who this tree has seen throughout the the last century? Who played under its branches and/or sought it out during times of sorrow?
On many occasions and in many moods, I’ve visited this dear woodland friend and have always left with a sense of peace – if not joy.
Case In Point: One fall day not long ago, I watched a young brother and sister play under its acorn-heavy branches as they unsuccessfully tried to dodge the direct hits of hundreds of acorn missiles. I envied their pure joy as giggles filled the meadow. And for more than one moment, it actually seemed like the tree played along as it pelted them with stinging acorn hits.
In memory and honor of that moment under the Acorn Tree at Jeffrey Woods, please enjoy a preview of the following poem I wrote - inspired by two kids with big imaginations.
In memory and honor of that moment under the Acorn Tree at Jeffrey Woods, please enjoy a preview of the following poem I wrote - inspired by two kids with big imaginations.