He was often reminded by the one who planted the seed about the one who planted his seed. And while still alive, it was easy to look elsewhere and gravitate to the strong and straight. Eyes and minds look high and think young. The soil simply reclaims and we have neither the time nor the stomach for that.
Remember the clarity of the very early years? Lack of age equated to lack of expectation. The only other ones who can have this freedom are the elders, if we notice them.
So as he stood about the broken burning redwood branches, gathered in a form that produced warmth and companionship, his eyes could not retreat from the tall wide shafts that towered over with no end in sight. Each one four feet in diameter and holding that width all the way up as far as the firelight would illuminate. No branches at all until the tape would read, say 200 feet, with another hundred feet blocking out any view of the stars. These numbers added would suggest age.
He must have noticed that his beer was empty, because he finally let go his upward gaze, and there in the shadows was the elder, squatting. Closer inspection with the pocket torch revealed a redwood stump roughly ten feet round, sawed off, and left standing at about eight feet tall. On top the stump was enough established organic matter to grow a disguise of ferns. He did not even notice these old folks earlier while he set up shelter and gathered dead debris for fuel. Yet now as he searched the dark woods he found many.
These fallen giants were felled at their peaks with hand saws. Any memory had been extracted and hammered into homes, furniture, and fence lines. But as he stood there and stared at the seed that planted the seed, he began to wonder about the expectation of things, and freedom….to grow. This forest, now preserved, has no pressure of use, and can once again stimulate the
clarity of youth and age.
