IN THE PINES
IN THE PINES
The wind whipped through the pines today and split this beautiful evergreen down the center, sending one half crashing to the ground with a loud crack and a thud that shook the earth, while leaving the other side standing undaunted by the force of the storm.
It probably took more than thirty years for the tree to reach such heights, withstanding many storms of springs and winds of winters. What a sad sight, like a twin loosing a mate or a wife loosing a husband. Such a large and un-repairable void remains at the side where once a constant, a companion, and friend once stood.
The pine is a tender wood, easily bent and often broken and yet beautiful to behold and useful in so many ways. A table, a chair, a shady place to rest can all be made from the pine. A bed of soft boughs and a heady fragrant perfume can be salvaged from its branches and a hearth in a fire can be made of it’s base to warm a heart and home.
“IN THE PINES” a sad old song comes to mind as I look out at the fallen pine, brought down by a savage wind to die on the shore of the water. It was written pre-1870, has no known author of record on file in the pages of history and is a compulation of two songs, “In The Pines” and “The Longest Train.”
Through the years it has been recorded by folk artists, country singers, gospel singers and even heavy metal rocker, Kurt Cobain, with Nirvana in 1993. But it is the sad, sweet voice of Dolly Parton’s version that haunts me as I look at the slain evergreen.
In the pines, in the pines, where the sun never shines
And you shiver then the cold wind blows.
My love, my love what have I done
To make you treat me so.