I called my memoir Tree Lines for lots of reasons. Number one, trees have marked important points of my life, from childhood to now. And tree branch and tree ring and tree root patterns echo the larger patterns of the rest of the world. And the tree line – the altitude above which trees cannot grow – symbolizes elevation, a rising above the norm (which I sometimes do). And in my travels, the trees that the local populace considers to be the oldest are inevitably in a place they consider sacred.
So when one day someone in the benevolent universe decided to publish my memoir, I envisioned a cover showing a literal tree line.
But covers are the publisher’s choice and that’s not what my publisher has chosen.
Nonetheless, just this past weekend, two friends took me up into Rocky Mountain National Park where Old Fall River Road climbs, almost perpendicular, to the top of Trail Ridge Road. I had been there before. I knew that that challenging, unpaved, steeply ascending road offers the most spectacular views of tree lines and glacial indentations.
We set out toward the mountains ---
Stopping occasionally to admire wildflowers and other wonders.
And tree lines.
Shazaam. And HALLELUJAH.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
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