by Jane St. Clair

The town of Flagstaff, Arizona is near forests of tall trees. They used to cut the trees down to make flag poles, and that’s how the town got its name.

The trees in Flagstaff forest are tall, and they are far apart, so that when you are walking along, you aren’t in deep shade but going through open spaces with sunshine. The tall shadows of the trees look like Yei people or the tall skinny figures that Giacometti sculpted. A tall skinny forest as opposed to a dense forest is very beautiful in its own way, and it also reminds you of how really short you are.

Walking around Flagstaff forest, I keep seeing reminders of how these trees were once made into flagstaffs and later into telephone poles. A row of trees is actually growing next to a row of telephone poles, which is totally weird,
as weird as seeing a clothesline in the middle of a field of cotton. The telephone poles also make me think that beautiful tall trees can end up like this.

. . . . . . .

As I walk further into Flagstaff forest, I see the remains of a forest fire –black stumps, trees that had fallen over, and piles of wood salvaged from the fire.

Was it lightning or was it man, Bambi?

So far this walk has not been great because I’m feeling sorry for Friend Trees, but I keep walking until suddenly the land is greener and more alive. I see a bright emerald meadow filled with yellow wildflowers underneath the shadows of the mountains.

It is a joyful thing to see renewal –to find this Noah rainbow. The forest in all her pied beauty is renewing herself right before my eyes, as she always has renewed herself and will always in the future –telephone poles notwithstanding.

Shakespeare asked “Shall not such beauty last forever and ever?”

Yes, I think the only answer is yes. Yes. Yes.