The Weight of Standing

To stand alone is not a choice, but a condition of the landscape. In the north, trees do not grow tall by reaching for the sun; they grow by enduring the weight of the frost. They learn to hold their breath for months at a time, waiting for the light to return to a world that has forgotten the color of warmth. We mistake this stillness for emptiness. We think that because nothing is moving, nothing is happening. But the tree is busy. It is holding the line against the encroaching dark. It is measuring the distance between the earth and the fading sky, keeping its own counsel while the wind strips away everything that is not essential. There is a dignity in this refusal to bend, even when the horizon offers no promise of spring. How much of ourselves do we leave behind in the cold, simply to remain upright?

Ronnie Glover has captured this quiet endurance in his image titled Lone Tree at Winter Sunset. It reminds me that to be solitary is not the same as being forgotten. Does the tree feel the warmth of the sun as it finally slips away?