It is a strikingly handsome species. I remember discovering it on my own as a kid- I was maybe 6 or 7 years old. There was one growing in the woods behind our house. As a kid, I spent a lot of time alone out there, talking to myself, singing, and generally daydreaming. In retrospect, I suppose that is how I survived growing up in that culture as a gay, intellectual kid. I was bullied a lot in school, and I had a definite sense of how much the local population would hate my guts if they knew who I actually was. These days, I have a lot of contempt for that community, its religious and cultural sensibilities.
I digress. As I said, I coped with this situation by being a dreamy kid who spent a lot of time out in the woods- in all times of the year. As I was becoming aware of individual trees and their species, I noticed this one lone pine with soft, bluish needles. It had one limb that was low enough for me to climb into the canopy. The sap had a delightful aroma- more pleasant than the Pinus contorta and Pinus ponderosa trees to which I was accustomed. I had a secret relationship with that tree. It was a special friend. In its branches I felt magically connected to the woods, and safe from the hate the coursed through the community around me.
One day, I told my dad about my favorite tree. He instantly knew which one I was talking about, and was excited that I had discovered the tree on my own. He told me about the imported fungus that had nearly destroyed the species when he was a kid. As I grew up, I noticed that my dad had a reverence for white pines. He may not have needed to hide out the same way I did- but he also had a sense that there was something magical about these trees.
As an adult with a hard core mechanistic world-view, I don't have much room in my head for magical thinking anymore. My sense of spirituality and sacredness in general is still there- though it doesn't lend itself to religious make-believe. White pines are sacred to me because they survived a devastating plague. They are very appealing to the aesthetic sense of humans (pretty much anyone who sees one is bound to comment on how pretty they are.) Even though I know that the trees have no souls or thought, part of me still feels a sense of gratitude for the shelter and childhood fantasy that they offered me. To me they represent a transcendence of bullshit and violent ignorance.
Anyhow, my brother and I found the tree in the picture. White pines don't really come into their own until they are decades old. They tend to be spindly until their branches really develop. This little sapling- shorter than I am- was already forming a handsome little tree. Several of its neighbors are in the picture- so you can compare. I am not quite sure of the color, however. The tree is in shadow, whereas its neighbors are in the sun. Even so, the tree looks like it might be a little darker green.
My dad actually had some Pinus seedlings in pots. If I had known that while I was up there, I could have tried grafting it up that weekend. Alas, I will have to do it next year. Or perhaps I could borrow a snow mobile again this winter- though the tree will most likely be buried in snow.
I suppose that one of these years I will just have to buy a snow mobile, though.
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