Much to my dismay, my precious tree friends remain out of view...
The prison's large outdoor recreation yard is still closed, supposedly for "construction." But many of the inmates, including myself, are quickly becoming suspicious of this. The so-called construction project is taking too long.
The men are missing the fresh air and sunshine, while I'm not being afforded the opportunity to burn off my fast increasing accumulation of raw energy. To keep a hyperactive guy like myself stuck indoors is like carelessly tossing around a case of highly explosive nitroglycerin.
I'm also now finding myself locked in to a role like that of a worried dad who cannot speak to or see how his kids are doing. That's kind of how it is for me, not being able to see my two tree friends. It's a situation that's beyond my control.
But as I further contemplate the matter, my worry is probably unnecessary. Miss Goldie and Mister Orange have already survived well over a hundred years on their own, and probably far longer than that. They've withstood decades of brutal weather. They have endured many prolonged droughts and winter freeze-overs. And they've also overcome insect infestations and seasons of blight and diseases that can sicken and even kill plants and trees.
Yet, here I am needlessly stressing over not being able to see my friends. But I wonder if they're just as concerned and frustrated about not seeing me? After all, as far as I know, I'm their sole admirer. Without me, there are no other humans around that I have ever seen stopping to gaze upon their natural beauty, or show them the least bit of attention.
In my view, Miss Goldie and Mister Orange are the true king and queen of the woods. Regardless of whether or not they miss me, I sure do miss them. So hopefully the main yard will soon reopen. And when it does, I'll be the first one out by the door.
D.B.
The men are missing the fresh air and sunshine, while I'm not being afforded the opportunity to burn off my fast increasing accumulation of raw energy. To keep a hyperactive guy like myself stuck indoors is like carelessly tossing around a case of highly explosive nitroglycerin.
I'm also now finding myself locked in to a role like that of a worried dad who cannot speak to or see how his kids are doing. That's kind of how it is for me, not being able to see my two tree friends. It's a situation that's beyond my control.
But as I further contemplate the matter, my worry is probably unnecessary. Miss Goldie and Mister Orange have already survived well over a hundred years on their own, and probably far longer than that. They've withstood decades of brutal weather. They have endured many prolonged droughts and winter freeze-overs. And they've also overcome insect infestations and seasons of blight and diseases that can sicken and even kill plants and trees.
Yet, here I am needlessly stressing over not being able to see my friends. But I wonder if they're just as concerned and frustrated about not seeing me? After all, as far as I know, I'm their sole admirer. Without me, there are no other humans around that I have ever seen stopping to gaze upon their natural beauty, or show them the least bit of attention.
In my view, Miss Goldie and Mister Orange are the true king and queen of the woods. Regardless of whether or not they miss me, I sure do miss them. So hopefully the main yard will soon reopen. And when it does, I'll be the first one out by the door.
D.B.
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