“It took more than three thousand years to make some of the trees in these western woods Through all the wonderful, eventful centuries since Christ’s time – and long before that – God has cared for these trees, saved them from drought, disease, avalanches, and a thousand straining, leveling tempests and floods; but he cannot save them from fools.”
– John Muir, Atlantic Monthly 1897
Our world blends old and young without effort. A child’s wit and an old woman’s wisdom fit hand in hand. A wildflower cradled in weather-worn leather hands just seems right. And a soft, bright, green leaf, fresh as dew, fits perfect cradled at the foot of a giant anchored into the forest floor.
Our roaming photographer captured such an image while trekking through the Washington state rain forest near the Pacific coastline. All day he searched for a scene that depicted the damp, majestic world towering around him. A leaf had fallen like a glistening tear drop of joy onto gnarled roots, protected forever in an ancient shrine so long as man’s buzz saw is held at bay.
Our human race is young, yet fits in perfectly with the impossibly old relics of nature around us. But we won’t feel like we have a place in this world if we destroy the wonders that helped foster us into creation.
I recently had the privilege of watching the bird show at the State Fair of Texas. The man leading the event left the crowd with a profound quote on conservation.
“We don’t own this world; we are merely borrowing it from our children,” he said.