trees

From the front window I like to look out towards a stand of pines on a hill off to the southwest a little.  Sometimes it snows on the tops of these trees whereas the snow doesn't quite reach down to my front window.  The pines around here are fairly well rooted, although none of them 'virgin' and apart from being cut down have probably burned over centuries as well.  Even now that houses have been built upon much of their old turf, little pines sprout up about everywhere.  The land is fairly inhospitable to any sort of proper lawn or garden and except where more amenable soil or sod has been imported, the pines or scrubs grow.

On the radio, which I still prefer to internet feeds or pod-casts, the news caster is announcing the status of the so-called Fiscal Cliff.  The federal legislature in their wisdom enacted a budget which was bound to fail should they not by the calendar year's end enact a new budget.  If a newer more solvent budget is not soon passed, then pundits and even many experts predict the national economy will fall over this Fiscal Cliff,  causing millions of individuals to plummet with it.

The season's long chilly dark hours set me in a contemplative bend, so I wonder what the pines would think of the Fiscal Cliff.  Perhaps they are sympathetic to the humans here about them.  After all, despite our use and abuse of their lumber, they're still here and quite majestic.  If the timbre from the winds through their branches were a form of their expression, more likely the sound is laughter at the ridiculousness of such situations humanity has placed itself in and towards no apparent reason.

Of course, the pines really have no feeling whatsoever about the Fiscal Cliff.