Finding that anchoring tree.

Picture by Maria Popova from "Brain Pickings."

If you've read my books you know between the sex and violence there are trees. From getting knocked out by Florida's state tree in Book One when I was running away from Nokosee, to the opening of Book Two when I used one outside my childhood home in New Jersey to slide down a branch to race back to Nokosee. I grew even closer to them in Book Two when on the run through the Everglades from Uncle Sam and his armies. Trees became my go-to place to escape the violence and chaos all around me. I'd climb the tallest one in an Everglades hammock and get lost in books and memories while trying to figure it all out. And, of course, making love to Nokosee in them too, a place I'm sure our baby girl Haalie was conceived. Trees connect the books and my life. 

So, it was with great pleasure and thankfulness that I stumbled upon this post by  Maria Popova titled The Death of a Tree on her so worthy blog Brain Pickings. She relates how one tree was always part of her life through her highs and lows and how she found solace by its presence in a Brooklyn park. I think of that as an "anchoring tree," something I long to have because it will mean I have stopped running, that I have stopped being afraid.

Please take time to read the post. As always, she shares other literary tidbits with you concerning whatever topic she's writing about. In this case it's Thoreau confessing to abusing a tree with a sideways link to another post suggesting trees "feel."