This is the road I don’t walk on when it’s windy. For some reason.

April 2023

November 2024

2:30 Friday afternoon, no particular wind, no cars, no pedestrians, and boom–down goes a leaning pine tree. Obviously, this could have been serious.

And here’s the crazy part. Ten meters up the trunk, the rings indicate this part of the tree is less than thirty years old. Some of the earlier rings are one inch wide.

I’ve gone by this tree almost every day for fifteen years, and only noticed it in the last few because of its tilt. Strange to think that in our early days here, it would have been less than half its present diameter.

As I said a few days ago, I have always thought trees have an innate sense of what, well, makes sense. I received this ceibo as a gift in a bucket, maybe half a meter tall. I let it dry out the first winter, and the main trunk died. What remains are three branches. I tied the dominant one vertical when I planted it out front. It was about half this height.

But obviously it has decided, “I am a branch. I do not grow up. I grow out.”

All righty, then: ¡adelante!