Oh. Look. I’m growing. There’s a little branch. Look at that spur and bud. And now a leaf. How nice and green. Oh, look. A bough. Two of them. Going in opposite directions. Lovely. And now look. Branches and twigs and leaves. More bark. I’m brown and green and grey.
Oh. Feel that. The wind rustling my leaves. I’m moving, shaking, bending. And now – how nice and warm. The sun. Look at the leaves stretching to get more. Feel that. Rain, hitting me. It’s wet and cold. It’s hitting hard, and dripping off my leaves and branches. Running down to my roots. That’s the soil and worms and stones and a badger, a mole, a fox.
How nice. Some snow. That will be here for a while now. Sleeping on my boughs. Oh, look, it’s melting now. The leaves will be coming next. Yes. Here they are, popping out again. How lovely and green and fresh. The birds are back too and the squirrels, landing on my branches, scurrying up my trunk.
Look. Beneath me. There are some people having a picnic in the shade. You can see me on the grass, my shape, how nice, and what a lovely gingham blanket. Look, they’re cutting me. A heart shape on my trunk. Of course. And their initials. With an arrow through it too. How lovely.
Oh. Look – blossom. How nice and white. The wind will blow it off soon. Yes, look at it fall. How lovely. And, feel that, it’s hot again. Now the leaves are drying, going red and yellow and brown and falling. Look at them go. The branches are bare. Now there’s some frost.
And – look. There’s a man with a saw. He’s cutting me and shouting and I’m falling down. Look, there’s my stump and my trunk, and I’m on the ground. How lovely. He’s counting my rings. I’m being cut. I’m a table, a door, a shelf, a bookcase. How lovely, how nice.