Dendrographia

Dendrographia (den-dro-graf’-ia): Creating an illusion of reality through vivid description of a tree.

It was getting dark. The woods were changing from welcoming to foreboding. I had wandered off the trail in search of mushrooms, became disoriented and lost my way back to the trail. I could hear traffic sounds in the distance. If I got totally lost I could follow the noise and eventually find my way home. But it was getting dark. At this point the trees started to look like pen and ink sketches, their branches sharply outlined against the darkening sky, living silhouettes framed by the remnants of light. The stars were starting to come out.

Luckily there was about an inch of snow on the ground so I could backtrack my footprints. Why hadn’t I thought of that before? I don’t know.

So, I was slowly slogging along. The snow reflected the meager light of the twilight sky—it was beautiful. The snow was sparkling —this sounds cliched—but the snow was sparkling like the flakes were diamonds. I wanted take a picture, but my phone camera wouldn’t capture the sparkle in the waning light.

Then I saw the mushroom tree—a dead oak with its upper half blown to the ground many years ago. What’s left stands there by the side of the trail. It is about 15 feet tall, 3 feet in diameter, and has no bark. It’s one of my favorite landmarks. One spring it became covered with oyster mushrooms on its northern side. That’s how it came to be named “The Mushroom Tree.” My daughter and I “discovered” it. We went back home and got some old shopping bags and harvested a good number of mushrooms. The Oyster Mushrooms haven’t come back, but other species of mushroom have taken up residence over the years.

I love the woods. Now that I’m almost 80 I don’t go outside much anymore. I am losing my vision and my hip hurts too. I have balance issues and have fallen down several times. The last time was in the woods. I had to crawl to a small tree and use it to help me stand up. I sort of climbed up it.

My house is surrounded by woods. I sit on my couch and marvel at the 50-foot high pine trees. They were 6 inches tall when my wife and I planted them around 25 years ago. They’re just getting started. I’m rounding the bend.

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

The Daily Trope is available on Amazon in paperback under the title of The Book of Tropes for $9.95. It is also available in Kindle format for $5.99.