Talking Trees

When Dylan went on a field trip to the redwoods last year the leader told them to listen to the trees. Apparently, if you cup your hands over your ears, you can hear the trees talking; but if you have REALLY large ears, you can just listen. Okay. So throughout our summer hiking we've all indulged Dylan and stood there, hands cupped, listening to the trees.

Yesterday I saw him standing at our front door, listening. When I first walked up to him he shushed me. Then he put his hands down, declaring, "I hear them, Mommy."

Curious as to what he heard - rustling leaves, squirrels in branches - I queried, "You can hear the trees?"

"Yep."

"What are they saying?"

"Mom, I don't speak tree." Duh. Makes sense. Me neither.

Sniffing Bark

When we were at Lassen National Park, we were reading about the different conifers there. One that caught my eye was the Jeffrey pine whose bark is supposed to smell like pineapple or vanilla.

The guide book read: "The Jeffrey pine may be distinguished from the Ponderosa pine by its needles, which are a duller green than those of Ponderosa pine. The Jeffrey pine is also very distinct from Ponderosa pine in its resin scent, variously described as reminiscent of vanilla, lemon, pineapple, violets, and apple. This may be tested by breaking a small shoot or some needles, or by sampling the scent of the resin in between the plates of the bark."

So, naturally, as we were hiking around the area and encountered the Jeffrey pine, we stuck our noses right up to the bark and breathed deeply.

I wondered if whoever wrote that had ever actually smelled vanilla or a pineapple. Dylan gave up after the first two trees. Riley kept trying and eventually concluded: some of the Jeffrey pines smell like pineapple and vanilla, some don't.

But my budding botanist has some theories about why that might be the case. Suffice it to say, he reasoned that people - all human - smell differently so why shouldn't trees - all Jeffrey pines - smell differently, too?!?

Can't argue with that one.