I Like Trees and Oatmeal.

Today’s Positive Note: I have nice hair.  I’ve been growing it out for a few years now, so it’s about half way down my back.  It’s a deep brown, shiny, and has decent volume.  I should style it more often though!

Story time: I like trees.  I was born in Northern Michigan on a cold November night, in a tiny hospital surrounded by pine forests.  During the New Deal Era, FDR’s Civilian Conservation Corps came to Northern Michigan and planted millions of pine trees in beautiful, perfect straight lines.  Straighter than rows of corn, even.  The trees are like spires, towering over everything, and when the snow comes, they almost begin to sing.  The night I came home from the hospital, my sister, scared and jealous of the new creature that was me, made a very kind and endearing offer: she had made a little nest in the crook of her favorite ash tree in our yard, and she said, sweetly, “Baby Snuffy can sleep there tonight.”  This pronouncement, although highly unrealistic, was quite psychic.  I have spent the rest of my life fascinated by trees.  My entire family, in fact, communicates through trees.  My father points out the elms in Central Park to me, how they lift up the stones on the sidewalk using their roots, like some giant land-bound octopuses.  My mother laments sadly about the sterile kiwi tree in our backyard.  My sister and I were quite possibly the best tree climbers in the entire state as children.  I used to pin dry oak and ginkgo leaves on my wall and let them stay there through winter, to remind myself just exactly how sacred the shape of a tree is.  In sixth grade, I once sat in a tree through my entire recess just so that another kid couldn’t climb it.  I could be stubborn, sometimes.  Our Easter baskets were often carefully nestled among tree tops.  My sister and I would laugh and shriek as our sap-scraped knees clanged against the bark.  I have a book of all the trees native to America, everything from the sweeping sequoias of California to the gentle, blossoming Magnolias that we ornament our gardens with.  A tree is both a feminine symbol and something that has absolutely nothing to do with humans.  It is its own special place, its own turning point.  Its own monument.

Those are trees in my yard. As youcan see, it’s quite snowy!  This is what I ran in this morning.  I did four miles with my new Garmin, which turned itself off after a grand total of four minutes.  I am going to give it a few more days — hopefully its crankiness is just a sign that it’s warming up still.  After my run, I did level two of the 30 Day Shred.  I had a wonderful winter breakfast:

Oatmeal with Naturally Nutty honey roasted cinnamon peanut butter, a pear, and honey ginseng green tea with stevia and a splash of milk.

And just for fun, a few more pictures:

My lovely cat Stripey, on of the streets that I run on, and me after my cold but still sweaty run this morning!

Lots to do today, I’d better get started.  Happy Monday!


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. runjess
    Jan 11, 2010 @ 14:48:10

    I was very displeased with my Garmin when I first got it. I guess we got used to each other. I lock the bezel when I run and that seems to help.


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