Today is Arbor Day, so it seems appropriate to post a selfie taken today. As you can see, my spring buds are beginning to pop and erupt into full canopy mode. I wish there were more than two centuries of selfies to share. Wouldn’t that be something?

Of course, the fact that I am here means many generations of people left me standing, even while cutting down so many others nearby. In return, I simply feed wildlife, live my life as I have done for so, so long, cleaning the air, soaking up water, trying to keep up on storing all the carbon you folks put out. Other Arbor Day events usually have people with shiny shovels posing for pictures with a new planting. How cute! Hopefully, you’ll make it to 50, or even 100, little one. All the important people who care about trees must be there, making nice speeches about the importance of us! Kinda sends tingles though the ol’ heartwood.

I don’t remember such performances from when I was a kid. Arbor Day wasn’t a thing until 1872, when J. Sterling Morton started it. How about that?! What a cool name, eh!? The name is where I stop feeling any bonding, though. History tells stories of how, even though he liked trees quite a bit, he was pretty mixed up in racism and corruption – hard to reconcile with that. His son, Joy Morton, a Detroiter, became the salt guy and also took on a love for trees. By then, I was already wrapping up my first century living around these parts.

Tree planting is pretty cool, can’t argue with that. A lot of sins to repent. For the past couple of hundred years, a whole bunch of folks have let me be for this long. I consider that appreciation enough. Not sure I’ll be here for next year’s Arbor Day, but if I am, maybe visit some of us seniors for the day, look up and experience the majesty and history we share – together. Can’t promise much shade this time of year, but no shiny shovels needed.