Dealing with denial

There’s nothing quite as serene as lying under a stand of lodgepole pine trees.

Their fallen needles pad the ground, choking the forest floor and smothering other growth between the slender trunks.

Left alone, a lodgepole pine will grow bushy and broad. But in stands, competing for sunlight, they race to the sky, and their limbs are sparse and high. In the early evening, rays of sunlight sneak through the thin, green needles and fall to the ground like strands of blond hair, granting one the twin satisfactions of lying under a tree and the sun.