I've been obsessing about bars these days. As in, "you better get used to these bars, kid." I suppose it's some kind of imaginal metaphor for my ego's desire to transcend the addictions of thought, or something, as I remain unrooted this year.
It's no secret that I'm itching to nest. But I'm gearing up for another big move. The transition continues.
This ole oak tree is not imprisoned though. From its perspective, it is momentarily snuggled up with its piney brethren. In thirty years, the oak will be in the clear again, and again, and again. This old oak has seen some things. The bars flicker in and out, and there's plenty of air to breathe.
5 comments:
I like this snapshot a lot. And the Big Wheel keeps a-turning...
"Better get used to these bars, kid."
Yeah, but where we're going, we don't need roads.
I somehow suspect the oak will only be in the clear until the "forest" "managers" realize they would have an easier time in the next rotation if they got rid of the oak tree.
Fantastic snapshot. Sorry to be such a cynic.
This blog is usually way to earnest for its own good. So thanks for commenting, anonymous, and adding some balance.
the pine farm seemed to be a small family operation, as is common in rural south georgia, so maybe they'll take the time to preserve the oak during the next cull.
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