Numero Uno

Erik Nielsen

Professor Barnum

Environmental Sociology


Tree Blog #1

I remember one tree that stood close to my house that overlooked my driveway. It was an evergreen in New Hampshire (where my home is) that served as an occasional place of refuge for times when I wished to be alone. When I was standing in the tree, I could view to my left my family’s driveway and all the cars that it catered to roaming faces and sondering minds. On my right is the view of my deck, then past that is quite possibly my favorite view in the entire world. Past my deck and across my lawn is a hole in a cluster of evergreens that looks out from New Hampshire into Vermont. The view holds a farm, some of Vermont’s green mountains, and part of the Connecticut River.

It’s incredibly peaceful knowing that above the tree line that even the state lines drawn by pea-coated, white-wigged men fade into a lush, green valley. The branches on the tree are perfectly sturdy, each one allowing a careful ascent up the tree at the base of the branch, but a rather flimsy midway holding point that is preferably avoided. Small pointy sticks that used to poke my arms while I climbed up the tree have since been broken and discarded, until I recently began to climb back up that same tree this summer.

After a solid six year period of not venturing back up the tree, I began my climb the first day that I came home after my freshman year. The branches still served the as the same sturdy base that they did when I was younger, but the prickly twigs had grown back. As I took another step up the branches and broke the twigs on my forearms and thighs, I began to see that the view had remained the same. The evergreen swayed a little more than I remembered (due to my weight and the tree aging), but the same view from the tree in New Hampshire looking out into the mountains of Vermont made me feel at peace again, similar to how I had felt as a child

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