I was in the back yard today extending the bamboo fence a bit when I saw Ray in his yard. I asked him what he thought of the new fence. He responded with a vague nod of his head and then launched into the trees. He didn�t start with the big one this time he went after the medium sized Oak and Maple that sit on the edge of my yard. I stroke laughed. We had a wild exchange in which things like this were said�

�When you can�t get your arms around a tree it should be cut down�

�The Trees aren�t coming down.�

� I am afraid it�s going to kill me or you.�

�You�ve lived this long�why worry now.�

�It hangs over into my yard.�

�You don�t own the air!�

�Foster (previous owners)�blah, blah, blah�

He really hated the previous owners�they were neighbors for over 40 years! In honor of Elmer Foster I have decided to name my giant tree Foster. I told Ray that Foster will never be cut down as long as I live in the house. The madness went on and on as we stood under the trees. I begged him to stop talking about my trees. He won�t stop. As I was sitting under Foster a little while later I looked around the yard and counted my trees�I have 16 trees in my backyard�Ray has one. One perfect Red Maple that he prunes to perfection.

Lisa says he�s the Onceler and that I am the Lorax.

Which means that "I speak for the trees. I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues."

I am thinking of taking a picture of Foster and printing this poem over it and giving it to Ray.

TREES

by: Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918)

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.