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A sap run is the sweet goodbye of winter. It is the fruit of the equal marriage of the sun and frost.

I don't think anyone looks into their family tree and expects it to come up smelling of roses.

We all know that any thing which retards in any way the free circulation of the sap, also prevents to a certain extent the formation of wood and leaves.

When I was born, my parents and my mother's parents planted a dogwood tree in the side yard of the large white house in which we lived throughout my boyhood. This tree I learned quite early, was exactly my age - was, in a sense, me.

Ye are the fruits of one tree and the leaves of one branch.

Each has his own tree of ancestors, but at the top of all sits Probably Arboreal.

What sort of sap doesn't know by now that picture-perfect beauty is all done with smoke and mirrors anyway?

Your soul is a dark forest. But the trees are of a particular species, they are genealogical trees.

I think the tree is an element of regeneration which in itself is a concept of time.