We took a long walk tonight: out of our neighborhood and past a park and an elementary school, down a dirt path and through a neighborhood with mature trees that lisped in the evening breeze. We, my wife and I, talked about how we liked that neighborhood. We liked the houses and the way they didn’t all look alike. We liked the trees.
I asked my wife if she would like the neighborhood if it only had small trees. Trees, like in new developments, with pale green leaves and burlap around their base from being planted so recently.
Of course, she said no.
I remarked, with the rare lucidity that an evening’s walk can bring, how interesting it is that we are so pulled to nature. We desire it near us, and we desire it in its fullness and splendor. There is such a difference between mature trees and the sad saplings that spring forth in new housing developments.
Thus, I wonder: why are our lives so removed from nature?