I’ve always loved trees. Living in the desert of Southern California, I could never get enough of them. When I drove up to my new home in the Redwoods, the trees took my breath away. Many times since I would find myself looking at them and sighing as I take in their wonder. But in my limited mental vocabulary of trees I always thought of them as solid stable things. But surprise…they move.

I’m not talking about the leaves dancing in the wind although I witnessed leaves looking like a bird on the branch with flapping wings. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. The trunks, that I could not reach my arms around, sway back and forth more than I would think possible. To look out the window and see 50 trees moving this way and that at different rates and speeds is awe inspiring.

They speak too. Sometimes they whisper as in a still fall day when you can hear pine cones popping or dropping to the forest floor. But when the winds rise up the canyons to the ridge, the sound moving across the treetops brings to mind some huge beast about to overcome me. The feeling is so intense that I have to stop and turn to see what it is. But it moves past like an invisible giant letting its hands caress the uppermost branches as it passes overhead.