How To Tie Fleece Scarves

The roots of the oak split the junta

The trees in Pordenone
Not all trees are content to do the trees. Take the plane trees, are convinced they have the contract for the supervision and woe to the unfortunate road trying to get out of the road: still waiting for them on board as boulders and arrest them without even minutes. It will be the port for the crown to erect or tear the cypress trees pose as altar boys, the fact is who grabbed the last monopoly greeting and there's no way for other competitors. The olive tree, you know, besides boasting culinary virtues, is a tree intellectual has given to politics and his image stands in the insignia of those responsible for leading the country. The holm, however, is a tree that is only the tree has no ambitions extravegetali. Prefer to live in the woods and fields, away from dust and noise, but if the plant in town, takes root and grows there as well. Pretends to do his job with the lungs of an evergreen oak. Spreading shade, make the change when it leaves and berries, take root without hindrance. That's what makes the oaks of the San Julian area for fifty years and what we will gladly do for another fifty. Except that they are wary of annoying, they, the oak, a little 'to everyone who has raised the fences and walls that stifle the foliage at the top and those who have laid the platform that will compress under, you feel guilty when they read that their roots have not only split the pavement, but the benches of the assembly where it governs the city. So they made a decision. Nothing playacting ecologist, pathetic debates on the environment, pro-committees gardening, particularly anything political exploitation. They are decent, the oaks, and they want to stay away from those squabbles. So, no more talk, treatment and maintenance of healthy hospital discharge of patients. Health or health, if they can not do what they were born, clean cut and amen. They ask all the oaks of San Giuliano, including eight which, in these hours, shivering chainsaws. And another thing. That their remains, if possible, there are scattered next, the jungle grew around Noncello. You never know, in another life.
( George Coden freely adapted from The Gazzettino February 1, 2008)