The oak tree was still, silent and motionless but for the wind, rustling the leaves, which had turned brown. The wind no longer challenged the tree to grow and strengthen itself. And, like the Tower of Pisa, the oak no longer stood straight but leaned precariously downward.
I emailed the power company on Monday morning. “Yesterday, my neighbor pointed out a large oak tree at the foot of our property. The tree is dying and ready to come down over the power lines.”
Less than five minutes later, I received this message: “Thank you for bring this danger tree to our attention. I will escalate it to our Forester.” Ronnie the Forester left me a message by mid-week, saying our dangerous tree was on their schedule for removal.
Still – the adjective
Oak wilt, a fungal disease, is killing oaks, particularly red oaks, throughout the mid-west, south into Texas, and into the southeast. The fungus invades the tree’s vascular system and cuts off the supply of water and nutrients, which causes the leaves to discolor, wilt, and drop. Eventually, the tree dies.
Early Friday morning, the crew arrived at the foot of our driveway. They carefully cut and dropped the branches so as not to hit the power lines. Then, section by section, they sawed the large tree down to the base.
The oak tree now lies in pieces. Still, silent and motionless. As someday we all will be.
Still – the noun #1
Stillness, deep silence, calm, in the still of the night. “Still, Still, Still” is an Austrian Christmas carol and lullaby. The words describe the peace of the infant Jesus and his mother as the baby is sung to sleep.
Still, still, still; one can hear the falling snow. For all is hushed, the world is sleeping, Holy Star its vigil keeping. Still, still, still, one can hear the falling snow.
Sleep, sleep, sleep. ‘Tis the eve of our Saviour’s birth. The night is peaceful all around you, close your eyes, let sleep surround you. Sleep, sleep, sleep. ‘Tis the eve of our Saviour’s birth.
Dream, dream, dream, of the joyous day to come. While guardian angels without number, watch you as you sweetly slumber. Dream, dream, dream, of the joyous day to come.
For rehearsal at church last Wednesday evening, Pastor gave us the schedule of music for Advent and Christmas. Though it seems early, many are anticipating the season, even though Halloween is next weekend. As I wrote after Thanksgiving last year, “Since gathering freely in person is yet a dream, we need to encourage one another this strange year.”
Through another strange year, we still serve the Lord.
Still – the noun #2
A still photograph of Elizabeth and I playing “You Are My All and All,” at yesterday’s service, minute 41.
Still – the adverb
Late Friday morning, I emailed the power company: “We wanted to thank you, Ronnie, and his staff for a job well done. The tree is nicely down. We are deeply grateful for your attentive service.”
The oak tree is still, “Still, Still, Still” comforts, and we are still making joyful noises unto the Lord.
Still here, resting in the palm of His hand.
Link up with Five Minute Friday: https://fiveminutefriday.com/2021/10/21/fmf-writing-prompt-link-up-still/
What a lovely carol. Such moving lyrics. I’ve never heard of it!
It is lovely a lovely carol, often sung in German, as is Silent Night. I’ll bet you can’t wait for baby’s first Christmas! Such a special time for so many reasons.
Very nice Carole. This reminded me of a song I wrote years back “Even still today” (He calms the waters…)
We have giant oaks with oak wilt. It will take years but each year they lose some of the highest limbs still alive. It’s a sad process although the wood peckers do not think so.
Thank you, Gary, always good to hear from you! Nature seems never to waste anything, though I am sad about the red oak. The forester said the ashes are dying, too. Another reason why we need to sing, “Still, Still, Still.”
I always look forward to the early morning stillness. Sitting with coffee while I do some devotional reading and study is my regular “quiet” time. With the darkness hanging around until the coming time change, my morning walks are looking forward to seeing the rising sun a bit earlier. There is a giant red oak in a nearby nature park, and I will be keeping an eye on it. Blessings to you and Keith.
My favorite times of day: dawn and dusk. God time. Hoping the giant red oak lives a long, long life. Blessings to you and yours, too, Richard.