It was the first warm day of spring when I blossomed, unsure of what I was going to face, caterpillars, strong winds or rains. I looked out over the land that lay in front of me. My fellow trees towering like giants over the land surrounded me, and many of my kind had begun to bloom its many leaves. It was so peaceful and the distant high school construction seemed unrealistic in my world. Each day I watched the changes in the natural environment and then progressively the unnatural changes as well. The flowers were in full bloom by May and the chipper sounds of baby birds and frolicking squirrels filled the air. The sun seemed to be out every day, and the blue sky was so vibrant you could sense its happiness. Each day the clouds danced a new way across the sky. But my peaceful serene world was soon demolished by the overwhelming sounds of chain saws and the smoky dust omitted by the massive yellow giants.
The high school surrealism had become my reality. It crept up on me at such a pace I hardly noticed it, first a few trees, and some orange fencing. When July arrived and the school year had culminated, that’s when the hell began. I remember the day quite well; the leaves and flowers were in full bloom now, and the lushness of the leaves made it hard to catch a glimpse of the school building in the distance. The sweet smell of honeysuckle filled the air and the bees buzzed with a song in their heart, through the warm air. It was very clear to me that things were changing. I had become accustomed to gradual changes, but this was all happening much to fast for me.
My days and nights blended into a mass of worry. I was petrified of being torn from the security of my branch. I imagined with great horror, my tree being slaughtered. My world had crumbled through the time and change. With it went my sense of what was important. I was missing the few golden summer sunsets that were left, the warm rain and summer thunderstorms. All the things I had always loved and longed for had disappeared with this unnatural destruction of everything.
By September a new roadway was constructed behind one of the buildings. My compulsive worrying had ceased. I now stare, in a state of depression at the newly constructed building and remember my friends who had rooted themselves there. The heat of the August days had faded in to cold mornings and afternoons where the sun’s warmth tried to make it a last harra of summer. The nights became cooler and the days held a brilliance I had never before seen. The blue sky was never so blue. Half way through the fall, the changes became apparent. The construction men wore rancid smelling clothes and were constantly eating rather than working. The sounds of the heavy machine and the clatter of concrete and sheet metal had begun to fit into my life.
By October the colors of fall were in full bloom, the ravishing reds, brilliant oranges, and browns dotted the country-side like a beautiful painting. Each day became colder and shorter, and I knew my days were numbered. I shivered in the crisp fall breeze. I watched my companions fall one by one to the ground. The sound of the trunks hitting the ground made my roots shake.
Then the day came it was a cool November morning. The sun was just coming over the mountain the distance. The morning fog was lifting giving way to a new day. I knew it was my time. The trees around me stood lifeless in the morning sun and now it was time for mine as well. I needn’t worry about the sounds of clashing metal, thuds of concrete blocks or the rummmm of an electric saw anymore. I am going to be safe and warm for the winter on the forest bottom for forever and always. A gentle breeze blew. It was warm and soft, and returned me to the things I had thought I’d lost. I was finally at peace with myself. I relax and just fell, falling, falling, falling to the ground beneath me.
I sit here now content with my life, past and present. The perfectly shaped snowflakes coated me and gathered together on the tree branches. The sky formed a perfect grayish color to serve as a background for this winter wonderland. I felt blanket warm and cozy. I as I look around I can see I am far from the home I previously knew. Now the sea of fire orange is gone. The horrid little troll men are just a dream. The atmosphere is quiet and calm. The sole sound is the pitter-patter of the snowflakes. At last my serenity has been restored.