07/05/2026
We took a family 4th of July ride last night to watch the sunset and visit my wife's favorite tree. Bathed in the deep, sun-baked ochre of a July dusk, the tree looked particularly sovereign. We wanted to just sit in its presence for a moment and pay a quiet sort of homage to it.
While we all celebrated America's 250th birthday yesterday, this tree stood silently in its field, just as it has for centuries.
It’s staggering to think about the sheer scale of time rooted right here. When the Declaration of Independence was signed, this tree was already a fully grown giant. And long before that, when Europeans first stepped onto this continent, it was a young tree stretching its leaves toward the sun.
It watched the world unravel around it. It stood witness as the deep, ancient forest that once sheltered it was systematically cleared away, its neighbors felled and their stumps grubbed from the earth to make room for the plow. Left isolated in the open, it became what is known as a Wolf Tree. Early foresters looked at these wide-branching giants as predators, like wolves, wrongly believing they were merely resource hogs taking up valuable sunlight and space that belonged to straight, harvestable timber. Yet it survived anyway, spreading its massive canopy to embrace the open sky and becoming a lone sanctuary for livestock, farmers, and wildlife in a forever changed landscape.
There is a silent sorrow in the way we treat these lands; that old instinct to tame and conquer is still deeply rooted in us. We still look at native plants, wild places, and untamed spaces and dismiss them as weeds or wastelands because they refuse to be manicured or profitable, or simply because they defy our understanding.
But there is a beautiful promise in this survivor, too. Just like the Wolf Tree, which knows only to keep growing and weathering the world around it regardless of who notices, there are those of us who quietly keep doing the same. We plant the native seeds, we protect the wild edges, and we hold our ground. Perhaps someday soon, more people will look out into the fields and forests and finally see the quiet, necessary beauty in what we do.