The Neon Ash

My father instilled in me a life-long love for trees. I've developed a particular recent fondness for the ash tree between the fenced-off dumpster and the cattail marsh. There is a picnic table beneath it where I often sit before clocking in to get in the right mindset for work, and I often sit there after work in the morning to wind down.

Trees help me think clearly. Sometimes.

Ash is part of the olive family and produces an oil similar to olive oil. I've read that ash oil can be heated and used to alleviate stomach ailments. In Norse mythology, the first man was formed from an Ash tree. The wood is strong yet flexible. Baseball bats were once made from ash. (It was an ash tree struck by lightening from which "Roy" made his "Wonderboy" bat in Robert Redford's "The Natural.")  When I was a teenager I cut down a small white ash in Connecticut and made my own snowshoes. 

The ash near the store is a green ash; not indigenous to western Montana but sometimes planted as an ornamental. I don't see a lot of them around. I call this one the neon ash.

At night, this ash tree often looks red in the glow of the neon lights on the side of the store, even in the summer. Perhaps neon cuts through the chlorophyll and reveals its true colors.

A few mornings ago after work I was sitting under the ash drinking orange juice and contemplating as the sun came up. At one point I looked up and saw this:

I am glad I had my camera with me.

The sun seemed to cut through the chlorophyll and reveal the tree's true colors. Like a neon sun. 

That night a big wind came through and blew most the leaves off the ash. Temperatures dropped. It rained. Fresh snow in the mountains. The next morning as I sat under the ash and drank my orange juice it looked like this:

I am glad I had my camera with me.

Trees have various moods. Beauty is ever changing. We all have brilliant moments. Sometimes we need a little help to reveal our true colors. Like a neon sun.

Trees help me think clearly. Sometimes.