Lonely Spirit

In the hustle and bustle of running through life, something drew my eye. A tree by the side of the road, tall and stately, called to me to pause. A lone conifer, slim, artistic, and alone, and singing... singing some ancient song. I stopped. Something about it took my breath away. I found myself wishing I could get out the backhoe and bring it home to my garden. It so deserved to be in a place of honor and not alone and ignored.

For a few years now I've adored this beauty every time I drive by. These days it's looking a little tired, a little sad. I feel like I need to get to know it better, so I run to my mysterious collection of experts on the conifer forum with a picture. Sure enough, the answer comes quickly... Abies lasiocarpa, better known as sub-alpine fir. And it is slowly dying. It needs altitude and cool mountain air to thrive. It needs a mountain view and the companionsip of wild things. Here, it is out of its element, doing its best to shine in unnatural circumstances.

This tree's story pierces my heart, and now I know why. It is my mother's story. Born high in the beautiful Selkirk mountains to homesteading parents, she was yanked out of the home she loved and sent to boarding school miles away at the tender age of five. Her heart stayed behind, in the mountains, like this tree. She grew, married and had children, made the best of her life, but always longed for home. The "furry mountains", as she called them, were her natural habitat.

My dear mother is gone now, but we've taken her home... home to the cabin in the woods where she was born, to the house they built on the side of the mountain, to the millpond below the house, to the high mountain fire lookout, to the artesian spring gushing out of the side of the mountain.

My tree will never go home. It will die someday, perhaps soon, breathing a last gasp of car fumes rather than cool mountain air. Now I can hear its song... 
Schelomo by Bloch. Listen!