Be Like This Tree

My favorite tree in the world grows about a mile along my favorite hiking trail in my neighborhood. I wouldn’t say it is the most beautiful tree; it is a little scraggly, and its trunk is not straight, and its needles seem a little thin. There are prettier trees on this particular trail, even, and certainly lovelier trees in other neighborhoods, and they are all perfect and their presence helps me to survive. But this one is my favorite, which is the right kind of tree, and also the toughest. 

My favorite tree of all trees grows right through a granite boulder. It is such a big boulder that it feels like it should be honored with a different title, like it is an extension of Earth, not a loose rock left there by a glacier. The large boulder is the size of an enormous boulder and it is so large it makes me think of Half Dome, or some other pluton.

The tree is growing through a crevice in this boulder, and the tree’s main root, which is serpentine and thirty feet tall and looks like a trunk, is expanding that crevice as it grows. It is forcing the rock apart, and consuming part of the rock and the dirt beneath it. 

The tree is the most determined living thing I have ever encountered.

I think about its genesis every time I visit it. I imagine two scenarios. 

Maybe, a seed fell onto a divot in the boulder, which was filled with dirt and pollen and other litter. Then the seed froze in snow, which ponderosa seedlings require for germination, and in the spring the seed sprouted. The small bit of litter provided nutrients. Its tiny roots took hold in the divot, and eventually pushed down, and its roots and the ice cycle split open the boulder. 

Or maybe, the huge crevice was there all along, and the seed fell from a bird’s mouth and slipped inside, tumbling all the way down. It froze, thawed, and took root. The tree then grew up through the crevice, feeling minimal sun, but finding shelter from the cold within the darkness of the boulder.

I am not a tree scientist, but I think either scenario is equally plausible. So either way, this tree as an infant saw some real difficulty, and persevered. Either it split a granite boulder and reached down, or it was consigned to live within the split and still made its way up toward the light. 

What I mean is that it is possible to find the light and to split open the darkness. It is not easy. Darkness will always return, on cycles that can last a day or a month or four years or a generation. But life will flourish, even when light is not pooling down easily and constantly, even when what little light there is must be actively sought.

What I mean is that a ponderosa seedling can do it, and maybe so can I, and probably so can you. Trust my friend, the bravest tree.