The power of water is astounding. Trickles that turn into streams then morph to raging rivers—at times in a matter of a few minutes if not less—cannot be taken lightly. Trying to accurately track an object caught in fast-moving current is almost impossible. My August 5th post about The Falls clearly demonstrates the meaning of “fast-moving.”
Wind can be just as harrowing. Various parts of the country were seriously hit first by the rain storm Isaias then by a rare, but powerful wind storm called a “derecho.” The middle of our country bore the brunt of its force leaving what resembles a war zone.
Closer to home, there was considerable damage from this most recent windstorm. Though the harm and damage here pales to communities in Iowa and beyond, I’ve noticed pine and oaks uprooted and toppled over. The swath of this recent storm event caught me somewhat off guard.
Looking at the damaged trees produced that anthropomorphic feeling within me. The morphology of plants, and trees in particular, created a connection hard to ignore. My trunk or torso is akin to that of a tree. My arms and legs are limbs just as a tree has limbs. My core, like that of a tree, is the foundation that helps me stay upright.
It was apparent that these trees could no longer return to what they were only days before. I’m not an arborist, but I surmised that nothing could be done to “save” any of the trees I looked at and photographed. Not a one.
When severe storms strike, all life is impacted in one way or another. However, plants and trees are particularly vulnerable because they are literally anchored to earth. They can neither hide nor escape their circumstance and their wounds are so obvious.
Carlo Centeno 