Trees
And a summit and flower there is the feeling they have for each other, And they are to branch boundlessly out of that lesson until it becomes omnific, And until every one shall delight us, and we them. - Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass I had hated locust trees when I was growing up. Michigan autumn comes and goes quickly, in a matter of days. I would run around our property, scan the roadways on the thirty minute drive to school, over rivers and through fields, trying to find the most vibrant shades of red and orange. I would pick my favorite trees based on their ability to represent the fullest range of shades from green to red and everything in between. In this, maple trees rarely disappointed me. Locusts, on the other hand, were a waste. Why bother planting a tree that does nothing but turn one solid shade of yellow each fall? There were never any surprises with locusts--they would never do anything but turn one mo
