I love trees. This is not an unknown fact to most of my friends, but I love tree bark even more. There’s something about the lines, cracks, nicks, patterns, and everything in between that reminds me of the beauty of the elderly who earned each line in their skin from life’s joys and hardships. Many of us bemoan getting older and finding that dreaded wrinkle one morning. I, however, love to see the lines on someone’s face. They tell a story that may never be said aloud. Those lines mark the passing of time and denote whether that time passed with many smiles or if it passed with many sorrows. The same can be said for the bark of a tree: you see the passing of time etched in its lines, missing pieces, the scratches, the layers, and the remnants of what is left after a storm.
If you take a step back from looking at the tree’s armor, you’ll see the beauty of it as a whole when the sunlight filters through its leaves and it seems to open up to the world to say, “I’m here another day.”
Strength, dignity, and tenacity.
Perhaps I’ve gotten a bit too philosophical, but this is my blog. If I can’t be philosophical here, where can I be?