Whisper in the Pines
I first discovered that lovely little patch of loblollies only a month or two after arrival. Growing at a forgotten intersection between two busy roads, it was a dense, green wall seen at high speed between other destinations.
I first walked it one cloudy afternoon in early winter, footsteps silent on the dense, matted needles. I returned several times, and found it different each time. But last January was the most memorable: the morning after a decent snowfall, the forest was another world, white and green overhead, the morning sun bright against a cerulean sky. But not silent: the strong winds were moving the treetops and the forest was a tapestry of whispers.
A year later, the city very cavalierly mowed down the pines over the course of a week, leaving ruptured, red earth. The land will be a redesigned highway entrance. As an engineer, I understand this. But the rest of me misses that quiet, magical green corner. All that remains of it are these two videos. Enjoy the whisper: this memory is all that remains.
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