Breathing Trees

Summary

The author describes an exceptionally quiet morning walk along the Pacific Ocean, during which they experienced a profound connection with nature, including hearing the trees "exhale" oxygen.

Abstract

During a rare moment of absolute silence on a morning walk by the Pacific, the author, Wolfstuff, shares a poetic encounter with nature. The usual cacophony of sea lions, tide breaks, birds, and occasional cars is absent, allowing the author to hear the subtle sounds of the environment. This tranquility enables them to perceive the trees releasing oxygen, a moment so serene that even the sunlight on flowers and the mist over the marsh seem audible. The author reflects on the rarity of such stillness and the impact of this experience, inviting readers to explore more of their work and support their creative endeavors through PayPal.

Opinions

The author values the tranquility of nature and the sensory experiences it offers, considering it a break from the usual auditory disturbances.
There is a sense of wonder and appreciation for the natural world, as the author poetically describes hearing trees breathe.
The author suggests that such moments of stillness are not only memorable but also inspire a deeper connection with the environment.
The inclusion of a personal website and a PayPal link indicates the author's desire to share their experiences and creative work with a broader audience, and to receive support for their writing.

Oxygen Exhale

Image by Author

The air was so still I heard the trees exhale their fine, fresh oxygen

It is not often during my morning walks along the Pacific Ocean that there is no sound at all.

The seals, or sea lions, I don’t know which but hundreds of them, out on Castle Rock usually choire it to high heavens to be heard for miles; or the tide breaks most emphatically crushing the water into glee or protest, I don’t know which; or the gulls cry or the smaller birds twitter or chase me away with abusive bird language when I stray too close to their by-the-side-of-the-road nests; there always the occasional car — never too many, though, perhaps one every few minutes or so even during a weekday’s “rush hour” (there is no rush hour in my little town).

Never completely silent.

Then this morning — and of course I realize that this was my mind tricking itself — dead quiet: you could hear air molecules, enticed by gravity, hitting and bumping their heads on the tarmac. I could hear the sunlight strike the flowers in the field. I could hear the mist out there over the marsh sigh as it reached for the no-longer-visible Milky Way.

And I heard the trees breathe.

P.S. If you like what you’ve read here and would like to contribute to the creative motion, as it were, you can do so via PayPal: here.

Breathing Trees

Oxygen Exhale

Wolfstuff

So, who am I? Really really. I could tell you that I was born in northern Sweden during a snow storm, and subsequently…