The Trees I Planted In The Woods

Every spring, for the past few years, I’ve planted  trees in our woods or on the farm. My hope is that it is a way to make up for the trees that are cut every year for our firewood.

As far as I known none of the hardwood trees I planted in the woods survived.  I lost track of them in the woods and brambles.

But there are four pines I planted two years ago that are thriving.

They were just twigs when I planted them. I put them in a clearing in the woods and tied ribbons around them so I could find them in the summer when the vegetation around them grows thick and high.

Now they are tall enough to stand out on their own.

Planting trees, even if  I know only a few of them will survive, is one of the few things, or maybe the only thing I do that speaks to my belief of hope for the future.

My photos, my words and my art will not last so long.  But planting  a tree is something positive that I have done which has the possibility to out live me.

And not only that tree itself, but the seeds it will drop, spread by birds, squirrels and chipmunks,  that will continue to grow even after the tree I planted dies.

It’s hard not to be concerned about the future of our country and the earth herself.  It’s easy to get overwhelmed and discouraged.

For me planting a tree is symbolic but it’s also an action.  It’s physical proof (to myself) of my belief in some kind of future that trees are still a part of.