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Leaving the Bristlecone Pines

Leaving the Bristlecone Pines (Photo credit: brewbooks)

Inspiration comes from many places.  To many times I forget just how much I am inspired by the blogs I read.  Many are penned by those who read, comment on, or like my own posts.  Today I was reminded, simply from reading a post on Living and Loving.  The article was about a single old knurled pine tree found amongst many others. Wise Old Pine talks about a sense of spirit the tree seems to have, and how inspirational it is to the author because of its stalwart existence.  Reading the story, made me think of those ancient old Bristlecone Pines trees I loved so much, back home.

I loved to hike along Windy Ridge above Alma, Co. or High Park, just below the summit of Mount Silverheels above Fairplay, Co.  To meander among these ancient trees you couldn’t help but feel they had a spirit all their own.  I’m sure if they could talk, the stories told would be phenomenally inspiring.  The generations of people they have seen come and go in their lifetime is mind boggling.  These trees have know tribes, clans, people of many era’s of our own evolution, and remained to tell the tale.

The Bristlecone Pine is the oldest tree known, being aged as much as a millennia, or more.  They have stood the test of time and the tortures of wind, and mountain weather.  The amazing trees grow in the high country where winds are ferocious.  Clinging to cliff faces, mountainsides, and ridgelines.  Roots firmly planted, seeming to meekly hold a tempered grip on nothing more than stone.  Twisted, knurled, and bent to the whim of nature, they keep hold, never losing their footing.

I always felt their main beauty was in the tortured twisting of their grain.  You could picture the weathered, leather like hands of an old Indian or Wrinkled face of an ancient woman in the knurled trunks.  The wrinkles and twists of time add a sense of intelligence or wisdom, hard earned… highly valued.  Just imagine the tales and stories they could tell!

Truly, it is sad that they could be finding themselves endangered by something as common as global warming.  How long will it be until they are nothing more than Mountain Memories?

“As we become curators of our own contentment on the Simple Abundance path… we learn to savor the small with a grateful heart.”  Sarah Ban Breathnach