On The Treetop
Over the hill, and just below the peak, stood a singular tree. With the way trees work through a root system, creating forests, it was saddening to think about why this tree found itself all alone on top of a hill. The oak was overlooking a valley with a sparkling blue, pear-shaped lake, dwarfed by the massive, gray stone mountain behind it. This high up, the winds were unencumbered by large masses so the fury that drove it pushed the grasses until they were almost uprooted, like a poorly attached toupe. Every yard or so was a small gray stone leading up to where the base of the tree sat. Its branches reached up towards the sky as though desperately hoping for an answer from above. I climb up, pushing off the lower branches to get all the way to the top. Thankfully, I was light enough, and the tree’s limbs strong enough, to allow me to sit up at the top and poke my head through the uppermost leaves to view the landscape surrounding this singular tree. Being cautious to not disturb the bird’s nest beneath me to the left, I adjusted myself till I was able to sit comfortably, criss-cross-applesauce, among the branches. The clouds above were of the watercolor variety; so thin and translucent that it seemed the blue of the sky was the foreground, blending into a white sky. I remembered the old HP desktop we owned when I was growing up, the way all of them had the same plain background with the bright green hills and a light blue sky of thin clouds. It had lost its allure quite quickly and after getting a newer computer I hadn’t thought of it again til just now. How strange the way beautiful things could so easily become plain and taken for granted. Sitting up in this tree, I thought I might never get used to this view, no matter how long I was to remain here. But perhaps I could. The valley was lush with greenery and large expanses of colorful flowers made it look like a rainbow covered the area. The lake sparkled in the midst of these flowers allowing for an visually stimulating experience; the contrast of the matte colors of the flowers against the almost satin, sparkling water that remained undisturbed by the winds above that were coming close to knocking me out of the tree every few minutes. I leaned back carefully, making sure not to put too much pressure on a weaker branch and allowed a bushel of leaves to envelop and support my head the way I once thought the clouds could.