PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
As seeds we’re imprisoned from the moment we’re released from our mothers’ branches. Pressed by rough fingers into prepared medium in small plastic squares, our sprouted roots escape through drainage holes to touch our kins’. As seedlings we are shifted to larger squares until mature enough to be burlap-sacked. For years we grow in orderly rows outside; together, but alone. Finally we are relegated to holes surrounded by cement on city streets. We will never know joy of community like our wild relatives. We begin to believe being safe from chainsaws and bulldozers is worth the price we pay.
Inspired by watching the documentary based on The Hidden Life of Trees. Learn more here.
I took my title from a Roxy Music tune.
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields is the jolly host of Friday Fictioneers.