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To see the big trees

He said, “Let’s...”

I said, “Go.”

He said, “Where?”

I said, “To see the big trees.”

Knowing we could get away for only a couple of days, he immediately knew where I meant. Thus, California, Oregon, and Washington state were all out of the question. He knew that we should go to the Joyce Kilmer National Forest.

We have talked about going for years, but somehow never found the time. Actually, that may not be true. We had the time; we just always had kids. I have known for years that when I first went to the forest that I only wanted it to be Daniel and me. No noisy kids.

He respects a tree for the most part. Not quite to the extent that I do, but he has sense enough not to constantly run his mouth when in the presence of one that has stood the test of time. We share a deep reverence for many things natural and big trees are a very big deal with both of us.

So finally, and I do mean finally, we drove north at daybreak on Monday with one purpose and one purpose only: that being to see the trees.

Was it worth the trip? Appropriately descriptive words escape me.

But I will try to share a few details. The Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest is an outstanding example of a cove hardwood forest; a forest characterized by rich, thick soils; abundant moisture; and a variety of flora. Some of the trees are more than 400 years old and boast a circumference of greater than 20 feet.

In 1935, the forester for that region of North Carolina wrote the chief of the Forest Service that the forest was one of the "very few remaining tracts of virgin hardwood in the Appalachians ... (and) we ought to buy it to preserve some of the forest original growth in the Appalachians."

In 1936, the Forest Service bought 13,055 acres for $28 per acre. Therefore, when most of the surrounding land was logged, the area around Little Santeetlah Creek was spared, protected by a recognition of its uniqueness.

Later, Veterans of the Foreign Wars asked the government to set aside a fitting stand of trees to serve as a living memorial to New Jersey native Joyce Kilmer, soldier and poet who was killed in action during World War I.

Joyce Kilmer was educated at Rutgers College and Columbia University, where he graduated in 1908. He taught high school for a year, and then launched out on his writing career. He took up editorial and journalistic work in New York City, rising rapidly to prominence as an accomplished journalist. From 1913 to 1918, he served on the staff of the New York Times and his byline found its way into many magazines.

It is as a poet, however, that Joyce Kilmer is chiefly remembered. His love of common and beautiful things, especially all things natural, found expression in his delicate verse.

Most of Kilmer's poems and articles boasted a strong religious thread. Amidst his deep, underlying sense of humility, there was a profound reverence for the eternal simplicity of nature. Clearly his work depicts the dignity of all living things.

I memorized Kilmer’s most recognized poem when I was a child. I am sure it helped to cement the foundation for my lifelong love affair with trees. All kinds. All sizes. All colors. Dead or alive. Any season. Trees are absolutely my favorite thing in the world.

If I were ever stuck in fox hole in France in the midst of war I’d be thinking about trees, too. To this day I cannot read Kilmer’s poem aloud without my voice breaking with emotion.

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast.
A tree that looks at God all day
And lifts her leafy arms to pray.
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair.
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

Check my Web site (www.maryjaneholt.com) to view some of the photos I took at the Joyce Kilmer forest.