That emanation from old trees

I love trees. I love full trees with thick canopies that send down flickering dappled light. I like tall weedy trees that sway in slight breezes and drape their thin tendrils around your rooftop like a gentle embrace. I love ancient trees that wear cicada skeletons and moss covered branches like merit badges announcing their longevity.


The kids laugh at me when I oooh and aaaah over a nice tree. They think it’s silly to get excited over something so mundane.

But there’s something romantic about a large tree…it’s withstood…it’s weathered storms…it’s watched people grow and love and die and still…it stands there like a majestic sentinel quietly noting the passage of time.


To lie on soft grass and listen to the rustle of soft leaves jostling about in a summer breeze, it’s the purest form of decadence, the ultimate laziness. I love trees.

It is not so much for its beauty

that the forest makes a claim upon men’s hearts,

as for that subtle something,

that quality of air

that emanation from old trees,

that so wonderfully changes and renews a weary spirit.

~Robert Louis Stevenson

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