- April 2, 2020
I live in a beech grove. Rooted all around me, they are my familiars.
As they grow, beech reach and spread with surprising articulation. They move up and out with suppleness and strength. Their roots curve through the ground, sending up little children.
All winter, their leaves flicker on their lower branches like little ghosts. In spring, their buds swell and point like pen nibs. In summer, they provide dense shade and open ground, since few other plants can grow alongside them. I like walking and standing among all those gray trunks.