I remember being a tree. It was lovely. I was a cherry tree some 70 feet tall and 14" dbh(diameter at breast height). I stood among red and white oaks, maples and ash in a small wood lot in central Pennsylvania and lived 80 some years.
I was beautiful. In the spring my crown was covered with pendulums of small white blossoms that breezes would send cascading down like snow. By August they became small black berries, food for mammals and birds. In fall my leaves turned golden.
I was strong but flexible; I bent and swayed in storms but did not break. I was generous. I took only what I needed and gave back more. I was patient; there is no hurry. I showed no aggression toward others but neither was I walked upon. I stood my ground. I was quiet.
I had a hollow that some would see as weakness. But it had an opening that went to my heart and it was home to many.
Now I am a table. There is no reason this life won't be longer than the last. May I be a place where food is shared amongst family and friends, where glasses clink in toasts of celebration, where laughter is frequent and souls connect in meaningful conversation.
Rough boards for table
Table in client's home.
Ebony pinned tenon.
I am pleased with this project because even after all the flattening, surfacing, jointing, ripping, measuring, marking, sawing, routing, drilling, chopping, paring, gluing, clamping, sanding and finishing ... it still makes me think of a tree.