I’ll have to agree with the frog on this one. While green is useful and I wear it with pride – it can be hazardous at times.
This winter was difficult. Yes, my roots were secure. The cold temperatures were expected and the abundant snow welcome. You see, I’m designed to endure long, cold, dark winters. My friends and I in the field flex in the storms and then capture the snow in drifts around our skirts. It’s so nice and comforting to the roots when it melts, trickling into the soil at all of thirty-three degrees. (One above for folks that think Celsius.)
But deep snow brings hazard as well as welcome moisture. My friends in the rows nearest the woodlot get the worst of it. Three or four heavy snows into the winter and the deer discover that our tops are easier to find for a snack than their usual woodland shrubs. It hurts when they visit. Chomp. Chomp. There goes my leader – trimmed down to less than an inch from the proud crowning glory of early December.
Warmer, longer days and vanishing snow changes the hazard. The deer retreat but the field soon has a new visitor. Legend among the trees tells of the ‘good old days’ – before the wild turkeys came. Now they move through the field in a flock. Peck. Peck. They pull off and gobble down another growth bud. How am I to grow straight and tall with they pick away at my potential? Days like this I wish for a little mobility – or a strong breeze – to wave my branches and discourage them.
Wait. What’s that sound? It’s growing closer. Yes, here come the humans. They are walking between the rows – scooping and tossing cups of nutritious fertilizer at our drip lines. Go rootlets – Go. I stretch them out to claim my portion of precious minerals mixed with fresh spring moisture.