“A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches in glorious enthusiasm like worship. But though to the outer ear these trees are now silent, their songs never cease. Every hidden cell is throbbing with music and life, every fiber thrilling like harp strings, while incense is ever flowing from the balsam bells and leaves. No wonder the hills and groves were God’s first temples, and the more they are cut down and hewn into cathedrals and churches, the farther off and dimmer seems the Lord himself. So we will say our prayers here and sleep . . . and the God of the mountains will never fail us.”

~ John Muir (Scottish-American naturalist, conservationist and philosopher, often called the Father of the National Parks; 1838 – 1914)

Gladly shared by Betty Hanselman

Gardener’s wife (& awed in the presence of big trees in Muir Woods, CA)