They stand like a long forgotten army in an old battlefields. Silver spires, row upon row, reaching up to the bright blue sky. Branches stretch out and roots like legs frozen, at the place of their final stand, holding back the tide of flames, that raced by. These are the remains of an old green forest, similar to the one we walked through just that morning. Yet now after a 2006 fire the stand as silver silowets to what the once were, as beautiful and proud in death that they were in life.
My imagination is fueled by the lore of Tolkien, and his great Sheppard's of the trees, the Ents. The forest we had walked through was a great stand of Hemlock tall, dark and green. From the arms of each tree hung the striking green of Mathuselas Beard, giving these trees an ancient look, of wise kings of a previous age, now resting along the Willamette slopes. The forest teams with spirits of the living, brings comfort to the lone travellers, like Hobbits a long way from the Shire.
The wind seems to howl like a lone bagpipe up on the hills. At places large old growth stumps stand chard and worn. Around them ashes an scorch marks radiate out in a grand arc, as though an Ent battled a great spirit of the fire as it charged forward. Defiant to the end. The ground is covered with blueberry and huckleberry shrumb, bringing fruit and life back to this desolate landscape. A sign of rebirth to this Memories of Trees.
When most people think of a trip into the wilderness they think of places of lush environments. But at the same time it is inspiring to walk through the otherside and feel the power of the forest remaining after the forest green is long faded away. It brings a calm wonder to out own cycle of life. I nod my hat to these powerful giants, and walk further down the trail.
From the backcountry mile
Ridgewalker
山武士
Http://ridgewalkernw.blogspot.com
No comments:
Post a Comment