CONIFERS

Sometimes, when I want to keep things very simple, I think about trees. I like conifers. I like the way they look. I like the way they smell. I like to draw pictures of them. In northern California, where we go in the summer, we take long walks along the dirt roads which weave throughout the ranch where my wife’s family lives. There are places long the side of the road where conifers have dropped some of their cones. The cones are huge—ranging between about six inches to a foot in length. When I was in the corporate world I used to have one on my desk and visitors would invariably ask for one. So I have brought boxes of them back east to give to friends. The cones are miracles of design—as beautiful in their own way as nautilus shells are in theirs.

But the trees—especially seen in their context—are awe-inspiring. I can think of one grove in particular which clings to the side of a steep hill just above my in-laws house. In the high-and-dry climate there, the trees grow to monumental heights. The trees on the ranch are not far from the redwood and sequoia forests—home to the oldest and largest living beings on earth. Whenever we hike up that road early on a summer morning before the sun makes the temperature too hot, I think about how timeless the trees are—how regal the they are with their uncomplaining natures. How quiet, yet how incredibly important.

They are important in a biological way, for the roles they play in the eco-system of the Northern California forest. But beyond that—way beyond that—the conifers fulfill a spiritual role that transcends the physical. These trees are some of the most inspiring beings on the planet. They bring not only a sense of hope for longevity, but they are the embodiment of courage in they way they stand so tall and fearless. This they do quietly without asking thanks or praise. They don’t complain. There is no self-consciousness involved at all. What they do is beyond a job or a duty, it is just what they do.

Some people might think trees do nothing but stand. In a way, that is true. But even in doing that, they seem so proud to me and, as I said, fearless, brave. These are all things conifers have to teach us. Before we cut them down and make them into lumber for our decks, we should stand beneath them, look up, and learn everything they have to teach us. They are our truest and most honest statues.