Snow crystals on a trembling leaf, along the river where we talked at the tip of Spring; fresh air, moist lavender sky--the silence following a blessed rain that came, bringing us to beauty; a tiny wild flower under the shadows of a moss-covered log; as if to say, I am the first smile, the new beginning of heaven.
Old trees hold us to the earth by their deep roots. And trees are our memories, like the blueprints of our planet's history. When ancient trees are cut, the earth loses its memory.
Our forests, those brave and sheltering Standing People, need their ancient forests, just as we humans need to be firmly rooted to our past generations, the grandparents who hold down our family tree.
~ from THE SWEET BREATHING OF PLANTS ed. by L. Hogan and B. Peterson
