“The unrecorded past is none other than our old friend, the tree in the primeval forest which fell without being heard.”
— Barbara Tuchman
I couldn’t help but imagine how different this place must have been when a tree occupied the space where there is now only a stump. It’s cooling shade most likely comforted hot and weary workers and animals. I can imagine a tire swing suspended by a rope hanging from the lower branches, that swing occupying for many hours the attention and energy of those too young to help with the work but too old to need a mother’s constant care. I think of the birds, squirrels and other creatures that must have found shelter in that tree either temporarily or as a home for a lifetime. What is now a stump once supported, nourished and enhanced life. Although the present quickly passes, what’s past is present.
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