A PAGEANT OF THE TREES
When the Man of Galilee spoke of “The Tree of Life” the metaphor was used advisedly. Is not a tree the very essence of life unfolding hour by hour and day by day—the harbinger of beauty on mountain and plain, the salvation of the waste-places, the antithesis of all monotony? The tender green of young trees in the sunlight, the golden laughter of autumn boughs, the loneliness of leafless trees against the sunset sky, the mystery of solemn contours drenched in moonlight, the cold, white loveliness of trees in winter—what would earth be without these things? And could the mind of man conceive a treeless heaven?
When the Great Love has stirred your soul and you are one with the Tribe of Trees through the blood-brotherhood of common understanding, you will see a deal of this humanity of ours mirrored in the multifarious tree-life of our western hills. Gird yourself with an open mind, take Fancy with you and go forth—learn of the old men, chat with the gossips, question the seers, ponder the heraldry of their ancient totems—do these things and you will return with Wisdom, and Joy will dance in the heart of you.