Category: A Daily Tree

This tree provided emotional support during my morning commute. It was raining as I drove into town on the “expressway”, but then suddenly some sun came out behind me and illuminated all the greenery.

[daily log: walking, 5km; retailing, 8hr]

This tree experienced mistiness.

[daily log: walking, 4km; dogwalking, 3km]

This tree was seen off the balcony of my treehouse, among others, near the sea.

[daily log: walking, 2km;]

This tree was seen from a fishing boat.

[daily log: walking, 4km; dogwalking, 3km]

This tree was next to a small greenhouse just before sunset.

[daily log: walking, 5km; dogwalking, 3km]

This tree was in a forest. I saw it just past the 10 mile hill, along our road, where the dog was walked.

[daily log: walking, 5km; dogwalking, 3km]

This tree stood by while an eagle supervised the fish in the sea.

[daily log: walking, 4km; retailing, 8hr]

This tree confronted overcast skies.

My mental association with me yelling is that I’m angry. Or terrified of something. Of course, this makes sense. I’m not a person to raise his voice without good reason.

The “emotional” problem I have in dealing with Arthur is that – in the context of his increasing deafness – the only way to get through to him in answer to whatever banal, day-to-day questions he asks of me (and always without his hearing aids, because he “forgets” to put in his hearing aids, of course), is to yell: much louder than my accustomed tone of voice. And the mental trick my mind plays, that I can’t seem to overcome, is that by yelling, I become angry – whether or not I really am. And I just can’t seem to bypass this gut-level, emotional reaction.

Arthur asks me “What’s for dinner?”

I answer, in a regular tone, “I thought we’d have a salad.”

“What? Who?”

Louder, I repeat, “I thought we’d have a salad.”

“A palace?”

Louder still, I yell, “No. A salad!” Now I’m angry. My gut is churning.

Meanwhile, “Oh, a salad. I thought you said palace. I was very confused. Why would we have a palace for dinner?”

“Just a @#$% salad!”

Repeat, on different banal topics, 10-20 times a day.

[daily log: walking, 1.5km;]

This tree saw the ridgeline above the house obscured by fog.

[daily log: walking, 5km; dogwalking, 3km]

This tree was beside a dusty road, while patches of snow persisted on the mountain.

[daily log: walking, 6km; dogwalking, 3km]

This tree was upstaged by a deer that was calmly supervising traffic. The deer is a bit hard to make out – it’s a little bit left of center.

[daily log: walking, 5km; retailing, 8hr]

This tree was hanging down at the beach.

[daily log: walking, 4km; retailing, 8hr]

This tree guarded the base of the stairs down from my treehouse.

Earlier, I saw a snail crossing the road.

I didn’t ask why.

[daily log: walking, 5.5km; dogwalking, 3km]

This tree was along a winding road; I was out for a morning walk with the dog, a quarter mile from our house.

I finally got around to installing a door on my little shed/greenhouse thingy. I really need to get this shed done so I can use it, so I can begin work on my treehouse again.

[daily log: walking, 5km; dogwalking, 3km]

This tree got its roots wet in the pond.

[daily log: walking, 4km; dogwalking, 3km]

This tree experienced a substantial rainfall.

[daily log: walking, 1.5km;]

This tree plotted an escape skyward.

[daily log: walking, 5km; dogwalking, 3km]

This tree bore witness to my journey to the metropolis of Klawock, where I purchased fuel. We no longer have a gas station in Craig, so fuel purchases require a 7 mile trip to the next town up the road. You can see there’s still a lot of snow on the mountains to the east.

[daily log: walking, 4km; retailing, 8hr]

This tree (which has been decapitated) has caught a rock. It’s a bit hard to see how it fits in, but there is a fairly large rock wedged between two of the cut-off, upthrust branches. I’m wondering how it got there – it’s a few feet off the ground.

[daily log: walking, 5km; retailing, 8hr]

This tree waited below a glowering sky.

[daily log: walking, 2km;]