Episode Twelve - Trees and Starbucks Through the Years

We look at tree identification and Starbucks drinks and what actually matters.

A transcript of this Haiku Life podcast together with photos will be available on the mygreatergood.com website.

You can also follow me on Facebook and Instagram - Haiku Life Podcast.

Transcript

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Hello and welcome to the Haiku Life Podcast, where we take a little exploration into some abbreviated moments. Haiku is a Japanese form of poetry. It is traditionally focused on nature and captures a fleeting moment within the space of three lines and a 5-7-5 syllable count. In a world so overwhelmingly immersive, a haiku is a moment of respite. These haiku are mine, moments of life, thoughts in the ether. Welcome to episode twelve. Red maple sapling winter barren sprawl to sky Starbucks through the years. I have always thought it a wonderful education, a gift to know tree names. I love trees. On my walks in the sadly fast disappearing woods, I run my hands across them, admire them, talk to them even. There is a comfort in trees, a quiet and steady strength. Lean against one one day. You will feel what I mean. Many years ago, when my children were very young, I bought a spiral bound tree identification guide. I thought we would learn tree names together. It has lived for years in the pocket in the back of the car seat, tattered and worn, not by years of patient walking through the forest, but by intermittent interest, only to be jammed roughly back in its hiding spot. So many trees, they all look so similar and the differences so intricate, yet at their core, trunk, root and leaves. Like Starbucks drinks. Did you know that there are upwards of a billion drink combinations you can order? Yet at their core coffee, milk and sugar. We are Starbucks people, daily visitors, never the drive thru, we go inside and sit, read a newspaper, do some work on a laptop, look out the window at the trees. The very first place our oldest son went just a few weeks after birth, one freezing January Saturday morning in Portland, Oregon, was the Starbucks on Bethany Road. The books my kids have read at the tables and comfy chairs, all the blueberry muffins and juice pouches over the years. We have lived in all four quadrants of the United States, and Starbucks is a constant for us. We moved to the southeast when older son was five. The red maples in front of our local were planted not that much after if memory serves. And honestly, I only label them red maples because in the fall they are infused with the most brilliant red fire foliage imaginable. My tree guide was not consulted. In the barren of winter they are merely trees, sprawling branches, trunk and roots. But on the particular morning I rarely looked at them and took the photo that goes with this haiku. I remembered they were young saplings once. It doesn't feel that long ago. My twenty two year old sometimes joins us at Starbucks. He drives himself, doesn't eat the muffins anymore. Ultimately what it says on the outside, how it's labelled, doesn't really matter. It's forgettable. A Starbucks, a Duncan, any number of boutique coffee shops. They are coffee shops, brick and mortar. And trees? Evergreen, decidious, young, sprawling bark, leaf, cellulose, carbon, hydrogen and oxygen. What it means to you that's what matters. Wrapping my hands around a hot tea matters leaning against the thick trunk of an oak or maple or magnolia that matters. A haiku is a moment in time a hand wrapped around a hot cup. A memory a young boy with a blueberry muffin. A thought. Oh look, there are no leaves on the tree. I wonder what kind of tree that is. I reach my hand behind the seat, rummage in the pocket. Yep. It's still there. Thank you for listening to today's Haiku Life Podcast. You can follow me on Facebook and Instagram. A transcript of this podcast can also be found on the myGreatergood dot com website. Matane. See you later.