Imagine if trees gave off Wi-Fi signals: we would be planting so many trees, and we’d probably save the planet, too.
Too bad they only produce the oxygen we breathe.
The colors of the women’s skirts and flowing dresses painted the grassy fields at our local park this weekend. Latin music filled the thick Cajun air with much flair and soul. I couldn’t help but sway my hips to the 3-beat rhythm of the band. Sitting in the grass was exciting, yet relaxing; especially in my new leather sandals I couldn’t pass up in the craft tent.
The sun was toasty, but the fall breeze brushing my bare shoulders was refreshing as diving into a pool on a sultry summer day. The excursion rid my mind of worries of our furry friends back at home, scurrying from their tree homes and out into the field beyond our yard. The “tree-murderers,” as I’ve deemed them, haven’t ceased their chainsawing and tractoring around. My mind has been swarming with ideas on how to make their job even harder. Isn’t it my job to help the trees? They deserve a voice, too.