If a Tree Falls . . .

23 December 2025

If a tree falls in the forest, does anyone hear it?

Jolene, the little beagle queen, did, the other night, at around 2 p.m.

She sat up in the master bed, looked warily around, and didn’t settle back down for a few minutes.

That morning, I came downstairs to the kitchen, looked out the window, and saw a massive pine tree blocking our road.

I called Dear Husband on his morning route, walking Jolene.

“Did you see that pine tree in the road?”  I queried him.

“Yes,” he replied.  “Nothing gets by you!”

There had strangely been very little, if any, wind during this past year, especially during autumn and, now, winter, in my locale.  The sudden effects of wind that went through this part of the Tahoe National Forest, two days ago, were enough to capsize this conifer.  It had been standing, for decades, maybe a century, proud and tall (very tall), serving as a windbreak, at the top of the ridge of the property of a brand new neighbor.

Even he was astonished at its massive expanse.  It had looked a lot smaller when standing!

That’s how it is when some things fall, finally yielding to the effects of gravity, corruption, evil.  Sometimes all it takes to take down an old, aging, decrepit, past-its-time barn is to blow on it.

The collapsing of so many once-revered institutions in America seems to be happening very quickly.  The crumbling, however, is the natural and logical result of decades of rot that permeated too many vulnerable arenas in American life.  The political parasites are merely the last scavengers on the scene to make obscene work of finishing off already weakened structures, companies, industries, even individuals.

To be in a need of a politician to fix anything is to be in a desperate situation.  I’ve resisted, with every fiber of my being, ever being in that sorry state.  The fact that the United States of America had to look to the so-called establishment political parties to deal with problems that basically must be solved by the individual, in spiritual, moral, and emotional realms:  that crisis of the soul — not of America — but of her citizens — annoyed me to no end during the 1990s, 2000, 2010s.

A private citizen then took it upon himself to get the job done.  He consequently brought upon himself, his family, his friends, and who knows what else, the diabolical wrath of the putrid power brokers, power mongers, and power addicts who nearly brought this nation — their nation —- to her knees in a position of abject obedience to foreign nations, foreign powers, foreigners.

The ginormous harms done to this country still exist, and will persist for many years.  I’m confident, though, that the enemies of our homeland, those traitors have been shown for who and what they are.  The patriots among us can show our faces, in public, for the first time in a very long time.

It is still nonetheless true, and horribly so, that the sight of a red t-shirt, honoring the late Charlie Kirk, in a public square, attracts vile attention whores.  Those mentally and emotionally sick people, however, no longer get to go on Oprah, write a book, and cash in on their vulgarity.  Lewdness is not marketable in the way that it was in the 1990s, when a parent had to hide from the kiddos, on Cable-News, the “alleged” obscenities of the Oval Office.  Lewdness is now click-bait. It’s just possible that the Laptop as Babysitter is not the optimal model currently used by Normals for the Grand-Kiddos.

I’m feeling very zen this Christmas.  For me, feeling zen is My Muse talking to me, quietly.  I prefer it that way, and so does she!

My creative projects for the future are truly of the future.  They’re not primarily composed of those cobbled-together pieces of the past, hauled with me in satchels, suitcases, and storage boxes from house to house to house.  I can almost say that I’m settled into Larkhaven, but I always leave room for my imagination, My Muse, if you will, to remain unsettled.  “Room to grow” is our motto!

My writing desk is about to get a make-over, with a shiny gloss finish, and a new location — in the Pup Room, aka Mud Room, or Laundry Room.  The multi-functions of that space are going to get another function, a desk for contemplation and for storing stationery.  The inspiration came from an online image that I’ve been storing for several years.

So many dramatic readings were recorded at that desk, in the Guest Room!  I shall always cherish my moxie overcoming my sense of privacy when, in May 2021, I actually posted “Love”.

“It’s too personal,” I thought aloud.

Yes, it was, and is, personal, My Muse stated.  What isn’t that you use as artistic inspiration?

During the summer of 2021, hundreds, and hundreds, of visits from Taiwan came to that post. I’d like to think that a little love went a long way to the citizens of a place once known as Formosa.

I was about to toss this pair of used socks in the laundry basket this morning, but then I looked at them more closely; and I realized that this little happy snowman is the template for the Snowman figurine of the future.  I’d already bought some “egg cozy” hats to adorn Polish stoneware snowmen candlestick holders.  The fabric Frosty needs a fun hat, not the top hat.  It’s so 1920s!

The 20th century is inevitably becoming part of our past, here in the USA.  It’s been a laboriously long haul for this blessed nation that’s about to take off — like a rocket!