i never liked trees. big ones, rather. they frightened me. too tall, i guess. standing directly under one made me nervous. i’d realize how small i truly was and i didn’t like to think about that.
I love the way trees whisper in the wind. I love that they are huge, yet they don’t insist on their own way, except by quiet resistance to forces that try to kill them, and their own inexorable growth.
trees in the field with the sun resting on their long branches…i watch them sway carefully in the breeze, dancing with each other, laughing in the summer day oh lovely lovely trees how you amaze me
Trees are beautiful with their wide branches reaching up to the sky and the leaves that litter them all over providing shade and colour and beauty like little jewels all over the structure of the branches.
The setting sun bathed us in a dreamy glow that day as the tall grass fanned and waved- an ocean of golden wheat. Tiny white flowers, daisies really, plucked loose from the arms of trees reaching endlessly for the heavens, were caught up in the August wind, cascading and parading and falling all around us like snow. Summer snow. I could feel the sun on my shoulders, the breeze in my hair, that feeling of perfect bliss that comes with being completely and undeniably innocent.
Childhood comes and goes so quickly, especially in the realm of memory. It’s a sin, almost, the speed with which time is lost, elapsed, grazed over. It’s inescapable, unavoidable. But that’s life, I suppose. A daisy chain of unfortunate events and mishaps. Of lost chances and misguided plans.
Trees symbolize so many different things, but to me they show best the interconnectedness of the world. They give us all life, shelter, expression. Trees are the essence of family.
The trees were wreathed in golden hues as the sun faded behind the sleepy hills. Not far from here was the place where Dan McGrady had come to rest for eternity.
There were so many, so many many tall trunks reaching up toward the sky. Their branches fanned out overhead, the leaves blocking any sunlight from seeping through between them. Slowly she made her way deeper into the forest, a sense of foreboding growing with every step.
the trees went by in a blur. i tried to focus on them, so they’d stick in my mind when i got to where i didnt want to go, i really wanted to remember them. but we were going too fast. i hate my grandmother’s insane driving. i hate her house. i hate the trees there. i hate my life. i wish i was a tree. i’d never have to be uprooted. id be sturdy, long lasting, and no one could make me do anything i didnt want to do. until they cut me down.
Trees have always been my home away from home. When I was a child, I used to climb the huge oak in my backyard and stay up there all day with a good book and a bottle of water. As I got older, this got to be less and less often. My back got back, preventing me from climbing after my childish dreams. Now, as I watch my grandchildren play in the treehouse their grandfather build for them, I can recapture some of those memories.
Tress are all around us. They give out the oxygen we breath and use the carbon dioxide humans have no use for. It is a perfect example of a symbiotic relationship. If one species, either trees or humans, were to die off entirely, it would certainly have an effect on the other, though trees would less so as there are other sources of carbon dioxide.
Trees. And more trees. I love them. They’re not too cuddly. They’re like an iguana for a pet. They’re cool and all, but you can’t snuggle up close and fluff one’s hair. Worst. Post. Ever. Hey, they can’t all be winners, right?
Trees. Green and lush, covering every inch of the earth in my fantisies. I’d like a house with so many trees surrounding it that I could have my own little forest. I would climb them and hug them and swing from them. Trees have and always will be the first thing on God’s green earth that I wished would never leave my sight.
Trees are helpful yet amazing. Not only trees help us breath but there are trees that can give you a bad injury but also has the remedy… The world is amazingu
Open mind, just write and as the trees sway outside the window they keep the time, the seasons change they mark but so much more you wonder what life has been like for them always there.
Trees surrounded the open ground like giants watching from above. The two in the clearing watched each other, circling like angry pit bulls. Daggers glinted in the dappled sunlight, throwing random beams of light through the gaps in the trees. The two moved quickly together–the daggers came out and struck in a clash of metal. One man fell, the other kept standing.
trees are like giant mushrooms. they sprout from the ground using the nutrients surrounding them, and sprout into mushroom-like shapes. they are more beautiful, in my humble opinion. the branches are like their own mushrooms, sprouted from the greater trunk-mushroom. I think this growth-on-growth is truly marvelous and wonderful. fuck mushrooms, go trees.
I love to walk beneath the trees, in all kinds of weather and seasons, this season is winter and the trees are still beautiful, the wattles are now in bloom and they smell like candy. The lemon scented gum trees are just beautiful with their greyish bark so smooth to the touch.
Trees. Trees are where I spend my life. I mean, the part of my life that matters. Sure, I go to school, sleep in my bed, ride the bus, cut the lawn, all that normal day-to-day stuff. But the only time is really come alive is these hours in the evening when I can just leave civilization behind, and go sit in and among my beloved trees.
trees are amazing things. I really love what kinds of things they represent and how they support all of the life on earth. I wish I could be a tree sometimes and do so much for the world, and to stand so strong…
…and the trees swayed and my hair blew against the autumn wind that brought no consolation, just desperate grim memories of hate and sorrow. It brought nothing but cold.
The trees are my home. They surround me in lush greenery, and deep brown bark. They comfort and shelter me. I feed off their nourishment. I am a tree-fairy. You may call me Dreanna.
Trees are amazing. Green, lush, verdant. I found myself on the branches of an old oak in the Hundred-Acre-Wood, spotting sight of Winnie-the-Pooh trying to fish with Pglet and all the rest. Eeyore is off in the distance on a little hill looking up to the sky where a faint bit of rainbow is still blushing through the clouds.
As we ran through the trees, I glanced up at him. The sun hit his auburn hair and lit his face most attractively. He was smiling even as we were running from out impending doom.
trees are green/unseen sometimes/rhymes in the middle of the day/i love trees because they breathe/they breathe for us in a chorus/
i never liked trees. big ones, rather. they frightened me. too tall, i guess. standing directly under one made me nervous. i’d realize how small i truly was and i didn’t like to think about that.
I love the way trees whisper in the wind. I love that they are huge, yet they don’t insist on their own way, except by quiet resistance to forces that try to kill them, and their own inexorable growth.
trees in the field with the sun resting on their long branches…i watch them sway carefully in the breeze, dancing with each other, laughing in the summer day oh lovely lovely trees how you amaze me
Trees are beautiful with their wide branches reaching up to the sky and the leaves that litter them all over providing shade and colour and beauty like little jewels all over the structure of the branches.
The setting sun bathed us in a dreamy glow that day as the tall grass fanned and waved- an ocean of golden wheat. Tiny white flowers, daisies really, plucked loose from the arms of trees reaching endlessly for the heavens, were caught up in the August wind, cascading and parading and falling all around us like snow. Summer snow. I could feel the sun on my shoulders, the breeze in my hair, that feeling of perfect bliss that comes with being completely and undeniably innocent.
Childhood comes and goes so quickly, especially in the realm of memory. It’s a sin, almost, the speed with which time is lost, elapsed, grazed over. It’s inescapable, unavoidable. But that’s life, I suppose. A daisy chain of unfortunate events and mishaps. Of lost chances and misguided plans.
Lovely to look at, bending in the breeze, with sunlight filtering through on a sunny day
Trees..trees have so many different meanings. Trees are what make places unique, so many different types. Such natural shape.
Trees symbolize so many different things, but to me they show best the interconnectedness of the world. They give us all life, shelter, expression. Trees are the essence of family.
the trees have bees who can see their knees and have to pay fees
Trees are cool, we need the to like survive and stuff,
some are very big some are very small, but yeah. O and some animals live in trees and stuff, and like build nests and stuff so yeah trees. xD
I often admire the beauty of trees. To be able to stand tall and be able to withstand any storm is something I envy.
The trees were wreathed in golden hues as the sun faded behind the sleepy hills. Not far from here was the place where Dan McGrady had come to rest for eternity.
There were so many, so many many tall trunks reaching up toward the sky. Their branches fanned out overhead, the leaves blocking any sunlight from seeping through between them. Slowly she made her way deeper into the forest, a sense of foreboding growing with every step.
the trees went by in a blur. i tried to focus on them, so they’d stick in my mind when i got to where i didnt want to go, i really wanted to remember them. but we were going too fast. i hate my grandmother’s insane driving. i hate her house. i hate the trees there. i hate my life. i wish i was a tree. i’d never have to be uprooted. id be sturdy, long lasting, and no one could make me do anything i didnt want to do. until they cut me down.
Trees have always been my home away from home. When I was a child, I used to climb the huge oak in my backyard and stay up there all day with a good book and a bottle of water. As I got older, this got to be less and less often. My back got back, preventing me from climbing after my childish dreams. Now, as I watch my grandchildren play in the treehouse their grandfather build for them, I can recapture some of those memories.
Tress are all around us. They give out the oxygen we breath and use the carbon dioxide humans have no use for. It is a perfect example of a symbiotic relationship. If one species, either trees or humans, were to die off entirely, it would certainly have an effect on the other, though trees would less so as there are other sources of carbon dioxide.
trees of death are blackened by the blood of many past battles. their roots dont drink water but the blood of armies spilled on the battlefield.
Trees. And more trees. I love them. They’re not too cuddly. They’re like an iguana for a pet. They’re cool and all, but you can’t snuggle up close and fluff one’s hair. Worst. Post. Ever. Hey, they can’t all be winners, right?
Trees. Green and lush, covering every inch of the earth in my fantisies. I’d like a house with so many trees surrounding it that I could have my own little forest. I would climb them and hug them and swing from them. Trees have and always will be the first thing on God’s green earth that I wished would never leave my sight.
Trees are the soul of the earth, always there, loving us. We should help them!
Three trees that day on the hill.
Two became empty, and then time stood still.
Trees are so amazing. Helping us, killing us, helping and killing us… 60 secs aint enough!!!
Trees are helpful yet amazing. Not only trees help us breath but there are trees that can give you a bad injury but also has the remedy… The world is amazingu
Open mind, just write and as the trees sway outside the window they keep the time, the seasons change they mark but so much more you wonder what life has been like for them always there.
beautiful. free air. green and wood but so much more. leaves, actually. not green. that was dumb. oh well.
Trees surrounded the open ground like giants watching from above. The two in the clearing watched each other, circling like angry pit bulls. Daggers glinted in the dappled sunlight, throwing random beams of light through the gaps in the trees. The two moved quickly together–the daggers came out and struck in a clash of metal. One man fell, the other kept standing.
trees are like giant mushrooms. they sprout from the ground using the nutrients surrounding them, and sprout into mushroom-like shapes. they are more beautiful, in my humble opinion. the branches are like their own mushrooms, sprouted from the greater trunk-mushroom. I think this growth-on-growth is truly marvelous and wonderful. fuck mushrooms, go trees.
I’ve already written about trees. They absorb energy from the sun.
trees grow. chlorophyll. they’ve got leaves. they absorb sunlight and carbon dioxide and release oxygen as a byproduct of synthesizing energy
volim. u parku. pored prozora. za pisanje. zapisavanje. retko i pentranje. ljubljenje…
How I love trees. Do they have souls? I used to talk to them when I was little. I miss them. I believe trees think. They do. I love them. Don´t you?
I love to walk beneath the trees, in all kinds of weather and seasons, this season is winter and the trees are still beautiful, the wattles are now in bloom and they smell like candy. The lemon scented gum trees are just beautiful with their greyish bark so smooth to the touch.
Trees. Trees are where I spend my life. I mean, the part of my life that matters. Sure, I go to school, sleep in my bed, ride the bus, cut the lawn, all that normal day-to-day stuff. But the only time is really come alive is these hours in the evening when I can just leave civilization behind, and go sit in and among my beloved trees.
trees are amazing things. I really love what kinds of things they represent and how they support all of the life on earth. I wish I could be a tree sometimes and do so much for the world, and to stand so strong…
…and the trees swayed and my hair blew against the autumn wind that brought no consolation, just desperate grim memories of hate and sorrow. It brought nothing but cold.
One by one, the trees were felled in the name of another subdivision. Oaks, maples, sycamores.
When they built the suburb, they named it Forest Glen. There was no forest. The streets were named for the “collateral damage”: oak, maple, sycamore….
The trees are my home. They surround me in lush greenery, and deep brown bark. They comfort and shelter me. I feed off their nourishment. I am a tree-fairy. You may call me Dreanna.
Trees are amazing. Green, lush, verdant. I found myself on the branches of an old oak in the Hundred-Acre-Wood, spotting sight of Winnie-the-Pooh trying to fish with Pglet and all the rest. Eeyore is off in the distance on a little hill looking up to the sky where a faint bit of rainbow is still blushing through the clouds.
As we ran through the trees, I glanced up at him. The sun hit his auburn hair and lit his face most attractively. He was smiling even as we were running from out impending doom.