Da Count:::Ode to Tree:::

I've been having a recurring dream this week; one of my friends skin is made out of tree bark. We've been mischievous together, we've talked into the wee hours, giggled about intimate things and rollerskated through the halls of an elementary school.

Playing in my dreams with a tree.

Trees have always spoken to me. I love the textures and colors of bark. I love the feeling of awe that overcomes me as I stand in a circle of Redwood Trees.

When I was a kid, one of my favorite hide-aways was to climb into an apple tree in my Grandfather's MacIntosh orchard. I'd nestle into a crook with a book and crunch on sweet apples. The trees were so loaded that all I had to do was reach out and grab.

Another childhood tree memory; I would dance and sing in the backyard in, around and to the stand of Maple Trees. The fall colors were magical and I remember one time creating a poem for a leaf falling off it's tree branch. The leaf snapped off the brach and as the leaf floated and spiraled to the ground I spoke it's beauty and eulogy. No, I don't remember the words! I was only five and if my mother had read me more fairy tales would have thought I was a tree fairy. But I do remember the feeling and my five year old memory doesn't have the sophisticated words to do the feeling justice.