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Lmao! I was thinking a similar thing, dogs peeing and marking their territory. There is one specific tree that my dogs mark every day and I’m surprised it’s still alive lol.The ones near me see a lot of dogs taking a dump in the sun. Good thing they can't smell!
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I used to hike up to this grove of Bristlecone pines in Nevada. These trees live only at high altitudes and are in the 3-4000 yr old range. I used to just sit and think about what they were alive during, such as the Trojan War etc. But they haven't seen those things. Just the natural flow of the seasons and animals up and down. Me included. Not 'average' trees, but pretty remarkable. The oldest located elsewhere is about 5000 years old.
That reminded me of this, on an old farm there are four old oak trees that seems to be planted in a square and together they look like one big tree. They are called "The Kings Oaks" because it is said that a King is burried underneath them. But no one knows for sure which King. Those trees have seen a lot.
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Both the picture and the poem, absolutely stunning.. I am in awe of the people here.Birches by Robert Frost | Poetry Foundation
When I see birches bend to left and rightwww.poetryfoundation.org
Birches
BY ROBERT FROST
When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy’s been swinging them.
But swinging doesn’t bend them down to stay
As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun’s warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust—
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows—
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father's trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It’s when I’m weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig’s having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth’s the right place for love:
I don’t know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
Well, I guess if Richard III can be found in a car park, there's hope here. The head of Charles I?That reminded me of this, on an old farm there are four old oak trees that seems to be planted in a square and together they look like one big tree. They are called "The Kings Oaks" because it is said that a King is burried underneath them. But no one knows for sure which King. Those trees have seen a lot.
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or if only we could hear them - how do we know they are not talking.If only they could talk.
or if only we could hear them - how do we know they are not talking.
or if only we could hear them - how do we know they are not talking.
I have read that some scientists claim spruce trees communicate through roots. They have root systems that grows into each other and if you chop down one tree, it affects the trees around them.
Well,...neighboring plants actually do communicate with each other via the mycelial network (soil fungi).or if only we could hear them - how do we know they are not talking.