What I noticed most while vacationing in the south this past week, was the softness of it all. The people, the dialect, the manners, the trees; all of it. A Northeastern girl, I’m accustomed to a harshness in the land, a toughness in the people, and a fierceness in the landscape. Even our trees, here in the pine tree state grow rugged, tall and proud. Our coasts are jagged, and our mountains are severe. Our weather can be extreme, so much so that Mark Twain said, “if you don’t like the weather in New England now, wait a few minutes.” And from its inhabitants, I’m used to speed, and assertiveness mixed with just a touch of hardness. What I saw and experienced in the south, at least in Charleston, was hazy, easy, and softer, and no where was that more apparent to me than in its trees.
Although South Carolina’s state tree is the palmetto, not the live oak as it is in Georgia, it was one of the most beautiful objects I saw in Charleston, and certainly the tree I photographed the most. Spreading its limbs generously, and luxuriantly across the landscape, the prodigious oaks offered abundant shade, and a filter, selfie specialists could only dream of. These massive trees grow more out, than up, a shape that allowed me to wander like a child under a canopy-like reprieve from the sun and the intermittent raindrops. A product of their environment, the live oaks branches grow out, sometimes up to 100 feet, while the height only reaches 40-80 feet, all of this to prevent it from toppling in the event of a hurricane. And if this isn’t magical enough, Spanish moss drips decadently, and enticingly down; an enhancement of beauty, rather than a deterrent, nature’s lovely tinsel. The effect is a covering of softness and beauty, much like the residents of Charleston, whose kindness oozed sincerity.
Maine’s pine tree by contrast, could never withstand the weight of snow if it grew out, and so must grow tall and aloof. Towering 160-180 feet, these trees are tough, strong, and useful, but lacking in the grace, and charm of the southern live oaks. What I find curious though, is that for all it’s bravado, the pine tree is considered a “soft wood,” while the genteel oak is known as a “hardwood.” I’m no arborist; I know about soft wood only because my husband was a chainsaw carver, and hardwood ruined his chainsaw blade, and his shoulders, and it was much tougher to carve over the more pliant pine. Hardwood is so durable that supposedly during the war of 1812, “Old Ironsides,” was so nicknamed because of its live oak hull which was so tough that the Brit’s cannon balls literally bounced off it.
I guess it’s true that you can’t judge a book by its cover, or maybe a tree by its shape. The toughest old Maine codger can be a softie inside, while a sweet southern belle can have a backbone of steel. I don’t prefer one over the other; both are a marvel of God’s workmanship. The Almighty sees the beauty in all of us-hard and soft, indomitable and yielding. There’s not one of us that is too difficult for Him to carve into a work of art. For that, and for the beauty to be found everywhere, I will forever marvel.
