I am a tree.

I am part of a bigger plan. You barely notice me but I don’t care. You don’t pay attention to many important things like birds, beetles, ants and worms. You miss a lot but occasionally you see the world around you. I prefer not to have your attention. I have plenty of friends who love me. But now that you’re here . . .

Take a close look.

I am alive. I am grey, quiet and alive. I appear dead but I am growing in all directions. There’s more to me than appears. My roots sink deep into the life-giving dirt and they are growing deeper now. My limbs are stretching toward the sky. My trunk is flexing slowly.

I am bare, thin and strong. It feels good. I love to shed my dense coat of broad leaves. Without them I have the energy to grow deeper and taller. If I didn’t toss my wide leaves into the wind, I would not survive. The wide, flat surfaces would draw the winter cold into my core, freezing me, making me brittle and weak. The snow would cling and pull me down. I would be destroyed.

But I am old. I was probably here before you and will probably be here after you. I did not survive by accident. There is a plan.

It is a big plan. Bigger than you. It stretches around the world.

Take a deep breath.

My true job is creating the atmosphere. Without me you could not breathe. Right now, on the other side of the world, it is spring and my kind are making oxygen from poison. The earth turns beneath the atmosphere and brings their breath to you. You have to do nothing but breathe. Which is good, since you are easily distracted.

I make a precious substance you call chlorophyl. You think gold is precious because it’s shiny. I think that’s cute.

Chlorophyl is solar-powered. Without it all life on the planet would end. That’s what I call precious.

I need three things: sunlight, rain and soil. They are always there for me. It’s part of the plan. It’s bigger than just you and me.

I’m dependable.

When it’s sunny I work. When it rains I drink. When it’s cloudy I grow. A lot of creatures are counting on me. I don’t let them down.

Now, without my leaves, you can see the nests of birds and squirrels. You can hear woodpeckers feasting on the insects I support. You can see the rocks my roots grow around and the mulch my leaves create to refresh the soil.

If you look closely, you can see that I’m already preparing my new coat of leaves. Myself, I will start with flowers, but that’s another story.

There’s much more to tell and it takes a long time to tell it. You don’t have the attention span.

That’s okay. You run along and play.

I’ve got work to do.