Summer in the Pacific Northwest last year was, in a word, disappointing. At best we get approximately seven or eight weeks of Glorious Backyard Barbecue Swim in the Lake Sit Outside By the Fire Until the Stars Come out at About Eleven weather. It’s such perfection that the other 300 days of gray and drizzle and Xanax are worth it. Fire changed that. Fires on all the land surrounding us. It robbed us of already elusive blue sky, outdoor activities, homes and businesses and old growth forests that were at minimum hundreds of years old.
It hurt to breathe.
Several years ago when my children were small I was sitting outside in a lawn chair staring off in to the distance. I was tired as only a mother of young children can be and my weary eyes went a little out of focus. Do you remember in the early 90’s when those pictures that looked like a bunch of dots were so popular? You had to reset your focus by going cross eyed and about the time your Great Aunt Dorothea’s words were ringing in your ears “Your face is going to freeze that way!” a shape would pop out. (I swear it was always an eagle) These sleepy eyes were that soft, blurry strabismal.
About a mile away was a copse of towering evergreens. As I trained my cross eyed gaze to the great green yonder, I jumped. The trees were ON FIYAH!! But wait. It was not the orange glow of a forest fire. But there were most certainly wisps billowing off the tops of the trees. Then the translucent blaze abated. It was sucked in to the tree tops. Then it was back, billowy and wispy and completely without color. I watched this strange phenomena for a minute whilst I awaited the last of my sanity to slip in to the ether like invisible smoke from my invisible forest fire. Then I realized what I was observing.
I was watching the trees breathe. In with the carbon dioxide, out with the oxygen, in the most graceful symbiotic dance between them and us oxygen dependent creatures. This went on in gentle rhythm until my eyes were burning and I really needed to just blink. Many times since that evening I’ve reset my focus to the tops of trees. Usually when I felt like my own breathing was not a reliable format of survival, I could count on the trees to reset my rhythm.
I was worried about the trees this summer. The ones actually on fire and the ones that were standing safely in neighborhoods that were not ablaze. If I was choking then surely so were they. The International Journal of Forestry Research did a study about the effect of smoke exposure to deciduous and conifer trees. They hypothesized that smoke exposure would reduce photosynthesis and found this to be true. However, they also hypothesized that smoke exposure would alter growth patterns. This was not the case. Both Douglas firs and evergreen conifers have defense chemistry to keep their cores intact. Basically, they grow a very thick bark. In short, the trees were alright.
So are you, my dear. You are alright. All the nastiness may slow you down a little, but you have your bark. Your core is intact. As Out of the Gray continues to evolve and create itself, I’m taking a cue and focusing on the importance of self-care and creating that bark. I’m not referring to indulgences like a day at the spa, though I am a huge proponent of those and indulgences are absolutely necessary. I’m talking about self-care when self-care doesn’t seem at all possible. Luckily, when time, and or finances are limited, you can do something so purely restorative and so simple that even the trees do it. Take a breath. Deep. Yes, that’s it. Smell the roses. Blow out the candles. Now another. Right. You got this! And should you ever forget how, go watch the trees. They are wonderfully patient teachers. Even when it hurts.
It hurt to breathe.
Several years ago when my children were small I was sitting outside in a lawn chair staring off in to the distance. I was tired as only a mother of young children can be and my weary eyes went a little out of focus. Do you remember in the early 90’s when those pictures that looked like a bunch of dots were so popular? You had to reset your focus by going cross eyed and about the time your Great Aunt Dorothea’s words were ringing in your ears “Your face is going to freeze that way!” a shape would pop out. (I swear it was always an eagle) These sleepy eyes were that soft, blurry strabismal.
About a mile away was a copse of towering evergreens. As I trained my cross eyed gaze to the great green yonder, I jumped. The trees were ON FIYAH!! But wait. It was not the orange glow of a forest fire. But there were most certainly wisps billowing off the tops of the trees. Then the translucent blaze abated. It was sucked in to the tree tops. Then it was back, billowy and wispy and completely without color. I watched this strange phenomena for a minute whilst I awaited the last of my sanity to slip in to the ether like invisible smoke from my invisible forest fire. Then I realized what I was observing.
I was watching the trees breathe. In with the carbon dioxide, out with the oxygen, in the most graceful symbiotic dance between them and us oxygen dependent creatures. This went on in gentle rhythm until my eyes were burning and I really needed to just blink. Many times since that evening I’ve reset my focus to the tops of trees. Usually when I felt like my own breathing was not a reliable format of survival, I could count on the trees to reset my rhythm.
I was worried about the trees this summer. The ones actually on fire and the ones that were standing safely in neighborhoods that were not ablaze. If I was choking then surely so were they. The International Journal of Forestry Research did a study about the effect of smoke exposure to deciduous and conifer trees. They hypothesized that smoke exposure would reduce photosynthesis and found this to be true. However, they also hypothesized that smoke exposure would alter growth patterns. This was not the case. Both Douglas firs and evergreen conifers have defense chemistry to keep their cores intact. Basically, they grow a very thick bark. In short, the trees were alright.
So are you, my dear. You are alright. All the nastiness may slow you down a little, but you have your bark. Your core is intact. As Out of the Gray continues to evolve and create itself, I’m taking a cue and focusing on the importance of self-care and creating that bark. I’m not referring to indulgences like a day at the spa, though I am a huge proponent of those and indulgences are absolutely necessary. I’m talking about self-care when self-care doesn’t seem at all possible. Luckily, when time, and or finances are limited, you can do something so purely restorative and so simple that even the trees do it. Take a breath. Deep. Yes, that’s it. Smell the roses. Blow out the candles. Now another. Right. You got this! And should you ever forget how, go watch the trees. They are wonderfully patient teachers. Even when it hurts.