They almost go without saying. And among all the hundreds of pictures I have already shown you, in our 217 part photo journal of a three hour trip to Pike Island, one notable, magnificent, magical creature has appeared over and over, in the background, all around, in between, unmentioned, and ever present;
Wait, let me check my notes.
No, not elephants.
There aren't any elephants on Pike Island. That's silly.
What I meant to say was (cue dramatic, triumphal music):
Aha. Now you understand my mistake. Trees are the elephant of the plant world.
The trees of Pike Island are wonderful and everywhere. They are maybe not so easy for me to photograph. And in some ways they are not nearly as exciting as seeing deer, or a bald eagle. But in other ways...
Yes they are.
They totally are.
They are a wonder every time I open my heart to them.
And sometimes they open my heart to them whether I wanted it to happen or not.
Trees trees trees. Little, big, scrappy, sad. Falling apart and indestructible. Ubiquitous and precious. Who doesn't like a tree?
The deer like the trees.
The chipmunk likes the trees.
The bald eagle likes the trees.
I like the trees.
And on Pike Island that's everyone!
I wish I thought to take a tree picture on Pike Island.
Oh, wait, maybe I did:
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