A genuine survivor
Ancient birch
I love this tree, an ancient birch sculpted by decades of exposure to wind, rain, snow, cold, warmth, birds, and bugs. I'm not exactly sure what's keeping it up, and I suppose that a good-sized gale will, one of these days, bring it to the ground. Today, when I snowshoed my way into the heart of the Babcock Ridge Preserve, I wasn't at all sure it would still be standing—it's been a rough winter—but as I rounded a certain curve near the Ridge's complex of wetlands and vernal pools, there was the old dear, more or less alive and remaining reasonably straight and proud. Praise be. It was worth even a heart attack to check in on the birch and learn that it remains among the living. I didn't wind up with a coronary. Praise be to that, too.