She lifts her knurled hands to the skies, takes a knobby step towards the horizon. Ever upwards –yet ever still. Still and silent upon the hill.
“In the willow-meads of Tasarinan I walked in the
Ah! the sight and the smell of the Spring in Nantasarion!
And I said that was good.
I wandered in the Summer in the elm-woods of Ossiriand.
Ah! the light and the music in the Summer by the Seven
Rivers of Ossir!
And I thought that was best.
To the beeches of Neldoreth I came in the Autumn.
Ah! The gold and the red and the sighing of leaves in the
Autumn in Taur-na-neldor!
It was more than my desire.
To the pine-trees upon the highland of Dorthonion I
climbed in the Winter:
Ah! the wind and the whiteness and the black branches
My voice went up and sang in the sky.
And now all those lands lie under the wave,
And I walk in Amboróna, in Tauremorna, in Aldalómë.
In my own land, in the country of Fangorn,
Where the roots are long,
And the years lie thicker than the leaves
~Treebeard the Ent in the Two Towers by J.R.R. Tolkien
* a lone tree on a lone hill near one of my favorite ‘get aways’