On trees ...

... I asked earlier in the week if anyone could recommend The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury.
Nobody did, but nobody warned me against it either, so I grabbed a copy and settled down to read. I’m really enjoying these old-fashioned science fiction stories, beautifully written, thought provoking stuff. And the price of the book was worth it for the story, The Green Morning alone.
And I quote “His name was Benjamin Driscoll, and he was thirty-one years old. And the thing that he wanted was Mars grown green and tall with trees and foliage, producing air, more air, growing larger with each season’ trees to cool the towns in the boiling summer, trees to hold back the winter winds. There were so many things a tree could do: add colour, provide shade, drop fruit, or become a children’s playground, a whole sky universe to climb and hang from; an architecture of food and pleasure, that was a tree. But most of all the trees could distill an icy air for the lungs, and a gentle rustling for the ear when you lay nights in your snowy bed and were gentled to sleep by the sound.” Even science fiction can be poetry to the eyes.
I love trees, one of the things that drew us to the Brown-Mouse House was the existence of the lovely Japanese Maple in the backyard (we now have 6, I counted last night). And I’ve posted a video of the wind in our neighbours’ trees, Mr Bradbury is spot on about the sound of trees.