The story of a dry tree

At first I was just a seed of a tree

This is The story of a dry tree. My story. Fiction, of course. The strong wind of Scotland threw me one day in the yard of a housekeeper. I was just a seed, but I had the courage to fight the whole world. My plan was to take strong roots in the moist soil. I knew that only the first period is hard, until you find your place. As soon as I desperately grabbed the grass around me and raised my stem to the sun, I was seen.

A vigorous tree with strong roots

Someone made a small shelter for me, so that I could survive the winter and the wild animals wouldn’t bite my skin. I was already a vigorous tree, which does not bend when the wind whistles on the hills. The sun couldn’t hurt me either. I had green leaves and a very beautiful shape. During the summer, the family in the yard where I lived took shelter in my shade. Do you know how much they loved me and how well they took care of me?

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I became an adult tree

Time passed too quickly and I became an adult tree. I had a tall stem and strong branches. The family’s child also grew up. I could see him kissing in the evening under my branches with that beautiful girl. Her red hair matched my green leaves so well. The boy’s eyes were blue. It seemed to me that the whole sky poured into them. Later the young people got married and had two beautiful children, with reddish blond hair and blue eyes like clear skies.

As the children grew older, I grew older. My leaves were drying too fast and the stem was losing its bark. But I was glad to see the boy climb to my top and look away. I was just as happy to see the little girl spend her free time under my branches, reading children’s story books. She was also reading me stories. I loved them very much, as if they were my children. Have you ever thought that a tree could love children? I think they loved me too.

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When I was dying

When they saw that I was dying, they cut off my branches that had become useless. From them they made a family tree in their house. They hung on my branches the pictures of their grandparents, their parents and their personal. I was glad to see how much they loved me. They didn’t cut my stem. My roots are still firmly planted in the ground. They let me dry in the yard where I grew up. Everyone who walks down the street stops to admire me. Some take pictures of me and listen to my story. The story of a dry tree.

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A country to care for her citizens. This is not a story

All the time I am tempted to make various comparisons between Scotland and my native country, Romania. Unfortunately, in all areas Scotland seems to be above us. Probably this is why you can see more Romanians in Scotland than Scottish in Romania. It’s normal to be so. They have left home looking for a better living, looking for a country to care for her citizens.

The country where the trees dry up. Nobody cuts them here

Do you know what I’ve noticed? As in Scotland nature is truly respected, that no one even breaks a flower. This thing delights me and makes me respect these people. In my country, the branches of the trees are torn down every spring. All the trees look like somebody wanted to mess with them. I’m ashamed when I look at them. Do you love the nature? I’m in the mood to hit the people who cut tree branches. Why are not we able to leave nature alone, at least where it does not bother us?

Have you ever seen a dry tree in the yard?

On a street in Scotland, in the courtyard of a house, I noticed a dry tree. You can not even imagine how astonished you have been seeing people have not cut the tree to turn it into firewood, but let it sit in the yard, beautifully arranged, to astonish the tourists who will notice it. This dry tree made me think of an aging dog. Some people are able to drive away the old dog from home, “lose” it somewhere, while other people spend their last money to care for the last days of the dog that has always been faithful to them. That’s the difference between the Romans and the Scots in terms of respect for nature.

When the tree dried up

What you see in the picture below was once a towering tree that made the shadow in the courtyard of good people. The story said then the tree dried up, they did not cut it to put it on fire, but arranged it nicely and left it where it was born and where it grew. They left it where it grew old and gave people fresh air and beauty.

I wrote a story about a dry tree. You can see it above

I think I will someday write a story about the dry tree that remained guarding the yard of some Scottish people and remind everyone that a tall, powerful, daring tree once lived on the earth. It gave to the people what only nature can give. Do you know what? Vivid colors, natural beauty, shade when the sun shines with power, fresh air and a state of well-being.

The story of a dry tree – fiction?