THE VIEW FROM HERE
by Stephen Johnson

The Wonder of Trees

As I look through photographs for possible inclusion in this month's essay, and the themes they might drive. it seems trees keep coming up. From bark patterns and textures, to towers that stretch to the sky, they are forest and decoration, food and poetry source, and have held a special place in my imagination as far back as my memory can reach.

The word tree itself seems inadequate, they are grander and far more complex than such a simple word suggests. But there really is no other word. Perhaps that is well and good. When I let my mind drift a bit into memories of feeling most at home, the scent of pine or eucalyptus are pervasive in me. The fecund smell of a redwood forest is an inseparable part of the awe of those trees, their furry bark, fallen friends and life cycle filling our experience.

Aspen and Black Leaves. Yosemite Valley. 1977.
Mamiya RB67

These living sentinels occupy so much of our world and natural world view that we both cherish and take them for granted. We make our homes from them, and sit under them falling in love. They may be the oldest living beings, and the most massive (massively connected fungus left for another discussion). There are billions, perhaps trillions, more trees than people on this earth. Yet we are deeply dependent on them. With phytoplankton, trees are among the great contributors to the very air of life for us, oxygen.

Elm and Lichen. Pacifica. 2014
Canon 5D III

It seems almost strange to single out and talk about trees as one big subject. The name refers to so many different species, in so many different environments. Our ways of relating to these beings are almost as varied, from wonder to refuge, to blind exploitation.

Yet, there is something all encompassing about our notions of trees. They embody our notions of the natural world. To even single them out as unique individual entities is uncommon unless they are grand or diseased. But the individual tree you may be standing next to is a singular being, with a unique embedded history and decades of often amazing adaptation. We see them grow in the most difficult and improbable places, with a tenacity that seems truly difficult to imagine. Trees seem to have a determination to eke out a rooting foothold from the tiniest crack where soil and seed can hold water and seek sun.

Trees dance. They sway and squeak in wind driven ballets orchestrated by forces unseen and without end. Wind animates these multi-limbed creatures with a complexity and grace unique in our world of familiar motion. Tree sway is more likely to be alluded to by a van Gogh painting than any words that come to mind.

Trees fall. Regardless of our presence or not, the sound is loud. It can be very loud. The thunderous fall of a Sierran pine was one of the most sudden, sensual and frightening moments of my life. It was over in a few seconds, only the smell of dust and cracked wood now replacing the empty piece of sky where the almost unnoticed towering tree once stood

When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.

from When Great Trees Fall Maya Angelou.

Trees, Jasper Alberta. Canada. 1978.
4x5 film with Burke and James Field camera.

Landscape photography almost worships trees. They are at the heart and core of landscape. As a subject they are both graceful and stark. They can resemble humans reaching to the sky and the waves of the sea. As seasons turn, brilliant leaf color becomes an irresistible draw. Places are known for the fall color of their trees. In fog they loom mysterious, in snow becoming black skeletons. They are a critical home for birds, among the most magical creatures on earth.

Trees and Hills. Shenandoah National Park. Virginia. 1996.
BetterLight Scanning Back on Sinar X View Camera.

Forests are the core of our romantic notions of the natural world. These massive stands of tree dominated ecosystems are essentially tree cities, with very complex interdependencies and evolved organization. They are also community for all the creatures within. The trees stand as companions for themselves, habitat for countless animals and shelter for the life below. We too feel this community, sense a belonging among them, and gain a feeling of peace and connection. We have been one of those protected species.

As John Muir once penciled in a margin of his copy of Emerson's Prose Works, "Between every two pine trees there is a door leading to a new way of life."

But, as we all know, there is a darker side to our relationship with trees and forests. Even as we enjoy forest and wilderness made of trees, we also make our homes from them. Our use of trees as lumber and wood-pulp as paper have created huge industries and great profit. We burn trees just to use the land they occupy for ourselves. Whatever use we derive is usually short-term, lumber for profit soon gone or burned rainforest for marginal agriculture on soon exhausted soil.

Clear-cutting and burning has threatened the very survival of many dependent species. We call the process deforestation, causing collapsing ecosystems, massive soil erosion, and the loss of oxygen production. We talk of the rainforest going, climate change, the denuding of landscapes like Iceland and now Honduras, Nigeria and The Philippines. Deforestation is now becoming a planetary concern, perhaps putting life itself as we know it in jeopardy.

Giant Sequoia in Mariposa Grove. Yosemite. 2007.
Canon 1Ds II

 

And we saw the seed,
The minuscule Sequoia seed
In the museum by the tremendous slab
Of the tree. And imagined the seed
In soil and the growth quickened
So that we saw the seed reach out, forcing
Earth thru itself into bark, wood, the green
Needles of a redwood until the tree
Stood in the room without soil—
How much of the earth's
Crust has lived
The seed’s violence!
The shock is metaphysical.

From "Return" by George Oppen. 1962.

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...continued top of right column