A closer look at trees and wood .... and the secrets they hold

The picture shows the grand canopy of trees over "Pirate's Island," a 2 acre mound of earth in the midst of flat neatly mown fields. No one can remember when the "mound" inherited the name of Pirate's Island or why. It is not an island, nor have there ever been pirates.

At the age of ten, I moved into a new home with my family. Pirate's Island was in our backyard, separated only by a deep gully, about 20 feet wide and "the path." I walked "the path" to school everyday, from fifth grade until I graduated high school... blazen orange in the Fall months; treacherous and slippery with ice and snow in the Winter; and lush green in the Spring and Summer. "The Path."

Life repeats itself. After almost four decades, several living in other states, I once again walk the path every day, but now with my dog. The trees are much taller and the undergrowth is much lusher. I look at the trees and ponder about what they have "seen" throughout the years. In early 70's, the trees watched John and his dog Ivy, walk to my house almost every day to visit my brother. John, my brother's friend, the guy who many years later would become my husband. Then, just last year, those same trees witnessed my father's last walk, with Spike and his last bike ride. Both on the day he died ... so suddenly, without warning. I have pondered about the many people those trees have seen come and go during those 40 years in between.


As I think about all these trees have "seen" .. I glance around my home. I see wood. Wood from trees. I look at the 1931 yellow pine hardwood floors that have been walked upon for more than 75 years. The trees from which they were crafted, lived and "viewed" life for many years prior to being planed into floor boards. Where did they "live" .. and what did they "see?"

My beloved antique oak sideboard. Much older than my floors. Did that tree possibly live in a forest ... and "see" nothing but other trees?

And what about my new hemlock front door ? Ummm...

It has been a several years since I started pondering about the wood that surrounds me. Mighty oaks, pines, maples, hemlocks and cherry....floors, furniture and doors. I now wonder about the stories that are forever etched in "the eyes" of each. The history. Each story ~ each person, as unique as the grain of the wood, continues to live on, their secrets never to be told.