Sometimes Barb and I drive past a radiantly green lawn or field and she suggests that the owner has planted rye grass which, she tells me, grows quickly and looks good in a hurry.
I love your love for “all things tree.” I sense your genuine joy in God’s creation. I, too, have read Andrew Peterson’s book, which gave me an even greater appreciation for our responsibilities as stewards of this beauty and practical provision for us.
Your best yet. But then you know how I love trees.
And yes, it has everything to do with being a pastor. That’s so obvious.
I love your love for “all things tree.” I sense your genuine joy in God’s creation. I, too, have read Andrew Peterson’s book, which gave me an even greater appreciation for our responsibilities as stewards of this beauty and practical provision for us.
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
- Joyce Kilmer
Well-played, Kt!