The older it gets, the gnarlier it becomes. It gets scrappy, scratchy, and tough. Dried up a bit here and there, really, and then the scales come, first a few and than many. Scales grow on top of scales until all you can see is an exterior that looks like the toughest leather. Sometimes the scales flake off in large chunks. Often they just become another permanent oddity of the exterior. And speaking of the exterior, it does grow hard and then harder with time. Pretty soon not much can penetrate it. It becomes a stronghold.
|One tough exterior.|
Eventually, it becomes a force to be reckoned with, and not many will attempt to force it to move. It often sets up camp wherever it feels like and then never budges again. Did I mention stubborn? Yes, very stubborn, to the point where it just doesn’t care if it’s in the way. And then it just forgets what “the way” is anyhow. But it seems to grow a certain nobility, albeit a threadbare nobility. There is wisdom there if you care to look. You can consult it and come away with a larger understanding of life.
There’s experience, though, lots of experience, and that’s why it can offer advice. Experience can only come with time. It comes with weathering many storms, surviving many winters, dealing with baking sun and soaking floods, and just knowing how to persevere. Eventually, surviving just becomes second nature and it doesn’t even think about it. There’s just a sense of history, though, something from which you can feel real roots.
But enough about what it’s like to grow older. What do you think of this tree?