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Close contemplation of a tall tree can arouse animal awe, if not reverence, in the most heedless mind. Put your hands on the massive bole. Look up through the soaring complex of limbs and fingers stretching aloft and outward for sunlight. Reflect that this is not a cold inanimate object like a stone, but a viable organism quick with protoplasmic life in every part, from the tenderest leaflets in its crown to gossamer filaments in the hidden root system. The ground space that its supporting sinews grip for security and probe for nourishment is even greater than the crown's wide spread of shade. Though it is insensate and—Aristotle notwithstanding—has no consciousness as animals know it, yet a tree has body temperature, circulation, digestion, sensitivities, and a cycle of growth and decline which, while far slower, is no less inexorable than an animal's.
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There they stand, the Trees, by far the largest living things we know, rooted fast in the earth with their heads raised to heaven. And they are there, or so we may tell ourselves, for our special benefit.
