Often when I walk these woods I get awe-struck by the enormity of all these trees cradling me, nursing me in mind and body, opening themselves to me, entreating me to surrender ever more fully to their care.
Autumnal view of a big American beech (with splashes of maple and balsam fir)
I have no idea how many trees are in Balsamea, so I say ten thousand. It’s probably a drastically low estimate, especially if you count all the little ones just getting started. I also say I’ve walked these trails ten thousand times, but I know it is many more. I just stopped estimating when it reached ten thousand. It’s all too much for me, and never enough.
I am immersed in the virtually miraculous nature of this unbelievable gift in which I swim. I did nothing to deserve it or earn it.
The Balsamean 