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| It
boggles my mind whenever I pause to ponder:
How great are the odds ... that a little pinon
nut,
no bigger than the tip of my little finger...
can fall from a tree and roll ... or be blown
by
the wind, or washed down
by rain ... (escaping the vigilant eyes
and
noses
of mice
and rabbits and deer)
to find its way into a tiny
crack in a rock ...
and find there, enough nourishment
and water ...
to sprout and
send down a root ...
and if it is very lucky indeed,
and the weather
is just right ... it might survive
a whole year,
and then, by the following spring,
it might become as big as this ...
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... and if the weather
holds good, or if
the lucky seed has somehow
managed to find itself lodged in a place
that holds water
throughout
the long dry
New Mexico summer ... and fall
.... and winter ...
it may hold its ground for another
year or two,
and become
as large as this ... |
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... and
then, if our stubborn little sapling
is tenacious and rugged, indeed ...
it has now sent
down a root |
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... a
root clever enough to creep and crawl
and send its tiny tendrils
down along a microscopic crack
in solid (yet porous) sandstone rock ....
where .... |
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day by
day, and year by year ...
the root grows wider,
and splits the rock ....
to allow more water to remain ...
to feed the tree ... until ... |
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within a
few decades ....
the tree is strong and well-established
with its firm foothold ... and ... |
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... in a
few centuries ... the mighty tree ...
ever and always pushing
against the stones that hold it captive ... |
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... as if
by chance, one day ...
the rock is split enough ...
the rain runs free ...
beyond the tree ... |
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| which
dies for lack of water ...
A sad
tale, indeed!
....... unless ...
by chance, from this tree once fell
a pinon nut, no larger than the tip of
my little finger ...
and rolled ... or was blown
by the wind ... |
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