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I grew up on a farm in upstate New York, where we grew lots of things to eat. What I think became my favorite fruit were delicious red raspberries, which grew in a long patch in our garden.
Only recently (I am 82) have I realized the miracle they represent.
Through long skinny root hairs they collect scarce water and minerals. And somehow — I cannot imagine how — they convert that thin dirt product into those delicious red berries for us to enjoy! Think about it: Could you imagine some elaborate machine doing that? Silently, reliably, almost invisibly, and generation after generation?
I like pondering that — and all those trees that each produce thousands of beautiful perfect leaves 50 or a hundred feet up from the ground. It feels deeply refreshing, particularly in the midst of all the not-good news of world affairs we are buried in nonstop.
Makes me appreciate so much about our existence here on earth.
Thank you, Mother Nature, for all that you do!
Henry Lanford
Bangor