Crawling inside this monumental sycamore tree was a gift of immeasurable stillness. Just my size, its interior became my playhouse and offered a peaceful diversion from civilization. The sturdy hardwood trunk is now charred and blackened with ash from a fire set long ago. Hard to imagine, this ancient 40ft tall relic was once a vibrant sapling tree. Planted over 100 years ago along the canyon creek it was helpful in slowing soil erosion and provided a shady home to birds, squirrels and rabbits. Beautiful in its final stage of decomposition the tree stands as an ancient guidepost to a secret waterfall. Huge boulders of blue green serpentine rock provide the falls stunning backdrop. Energetically flowing with liquid emotion a cool creek runs lively after the El Niño rains. Today Mother Earth seems reborn and refreshed after many years of severe California drought. Reservoir Canyon Natural Reserve is just off the 101 freeway in San Luis Obispo County. And the best thing is... Every time I hike this trail I find something new to explore. Every moment is the last moment. Its freshness is why it's wonderful. Its fleeting nature is why it's precious.
A Dream of Trees
by Mary Oliver
There is a thing in me that dreamed of trees,
A quiet house, some green and modest acres
A little way from every troubling town,
A little way from factories, schools, laments.
I would have time, I thought, and time to spare,
With only streams and birds for company.
To build out of my life a few wild stanzas.
And then it came to me, that so was death,
A little way away from everywhere.
There is a thing in me still dreams of trees,
But let it go. Homesick for moderation,
Half the world’s artists shrink or fall away.
If any find solution, let him tell it.
Meanwhile I bend my heart toward lamentation
Where, as the times implore our true involvement,
The blades of every crisis point the way.
I would it were not so, but so it is.
Who ever made music of a mild day?
