One would assume that, on the tailwind of our recent interstate road-trip, an aimless country drive would be the last way our family would choose to spend our Sunday.
They’d be wrong.
I blame Montana. And Autumn. And mountains and trees and leaves and clear skies and fresh air.
Resistance was futile.
In related news, I have a new third favorite tree. I adore a good tree.
Is she a willow? A Cottonwood? I couldn’t be certain. She dethroned this towering redwood for third place in my mental index of favorite trees.
Perhaps surprisingly coming from a native Oregonian, but I’m not particularly a coniferous kind of girl, anyway. I prefer my trees deciduous and limby– begging for a climb, lending themselves to a fort of Swiss Family Robinson proportions.
First and second place hold steady with this famous Banyan we visited a few years ago in Kona, Hawaii…
…and these magnificent –I don’t know whats- in Burkina-Faso, West Africa, near the lush border of Cote d’Ivoire [Ivory Coast].
I am indeed a short gal, but I’ve never felt so utterly dwarfed as when I walked the path amidst this grove of frozen giants.
“…The mountains and the hills shall break forth into singing before you, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.” Isaiah 55:`12
SIDE NOTE: Little Man had a couple of firsts today: First blue jeans, first belt, first solo flight in the church nursery. He rocked all three.