I have always been a lover of shade more than bright sun. Florida beaches where we spent many of our vacations didn’t offer shade, just miles of hot sand and hot sun, but the manmade beach in Key West did have shrubby trees that offered some respite from the intense tropical sun. I remember being so grateful for those shrubby trees, and even now, as I walk the dogs in our neighborhood during the heat of summer, I always seek the shade as much as I can.

Because I’m so enamored with shade, I’ve become a little obsessed with trees. It’s easy to walk by them, ignoring the canopy of green leaves that flutter above my head. Just a brown, woody trunk within my eyesight – nothing interesting going on there. But lately I’ve started looking up, and I’m surprised to see flowers, birds, buds, leaves, and tangles of branches. These trees receive no reward, no praise for what they give us: shade (my favorite), oxygen (a close second), homes for songbirds (OK, maybe a tie for second place). Their generosity without expecting any payback is astounding, and much of nature works in this same fashion: being itself to the fullest and knowing that is enough.

The generosity of trees involves them simply living as they were created and sharing the joy in that life with others. No concern or comparison with others but being themselves and doing good without really trying. When I walk the dogs, I hear the lines from Mary Oliver’s poem “When I Am Among the Trees:”

“They [the trees] give off such hints of gladness.

I would almost say that they save me, and daily.”

Amen.