She is slightly taller than the trees around her, but her shape has a tilt to one side unlike any of the others. She seems to be leaning away from the golden, trademarked brick of Jarvis, as if trying to escape the reach of man. This slope is anything but natural. On the side that should be reaching towards Jarvis, her limbs show the scars of surgeon-like amputations. Where there used to be large branches full of leaves, now there is only the slight puffing up that arises in trees, as well as humans, after being cut deeply.
As hard as she tries, she cannot escape the reach of mankind. Dangling from one of her amputated limbs are two long chains, holding a metal swing 15 feet below. The grass beneath the swing has disappeared due to overuse, and even as I watch, the swing jerks back and forth due to its recent occupant's departure.
Her branches only begin 15 feet up her sturdy, large trunk. Those remaining branches are still full of life, growing up and away from the missing parts. Half of her branches stand tall and proud, splitting off into smaller and smaller limbs, all covered in dark yet vibrantly green leaves. The other half seem to be chasing what is left of nature, facing opposite of Jarvis and growing ever further away. Those branches growing away from Jarvis are so weighed down with lively greenery that they bend slightly under the weight of the leaves. Her bark chases its fragments vertically in columns down the length of her trunk, and into the almost artificial green of the grass that surrounds her.
She is a beautifully tragic example of our attempt to both to control nature for our use, and to get it out of the way of our glorified industries.
As hard as she tries, she cannot escape the reach of mankind. Dangling from one of her amputated limbs are two long chains, holding a metal swing 15 feet below. The grass beneath the swing has disappeared due to overuse, and even as I watch, the swing jerks back and forth due to its recent occupant's departure.
Her branches only begin 15 feet up her sturdy, large trunk. Those remaining branches are still full of life, growing up and away from the missing parts. Half of her branches stand tall and proud, splitting off into smaller and smaller limbs, all covered in dark yet vibrantly green leaves. The other half seem to be chasing what is left of nature, facing opposite of Jarvis and growing ever further away. Those branches growing away from Jarvis are so weighed down with lively greenery that they bend slightly under the weight of the leaves. Her bark chases its fragments vertically in columns down the length of her trunk, and into the almost artificial green of the grass that surrounds her.
She is a beautifully tragic example of our attempt to both to control nature for our use, and to get it out of the way of our glorified industries.
Thanks for the description. The tree is oak, and I am guessing it's a pin oak, though I'll check this afternoon. Not sure I would call it tragic, though probably over-trimmed. I have seen dozens and dozens of students and even faculty swing on the swing over the years, but because we are all subjects to risk management requirements these days I keep expecting the swing to disappear.
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