Richard
Hares, Trees, Chainsaws and other random objects.
Aesop�s famous (almost notorious) Fable of the Hare and the Tortoise is not doubt known by most. However, the popularity of any story, tale or saying, is a curse for the message it contains, as people feel that as it is something of a clich�, they have the right to ignore it. Therefore, step aside from hares and tortoises and, instead of the races of the fauna, let us look at the flora.
I was there when the life of a once great tree came to an end. Through a combination of its weakening through disease, parasite and simply old age, it finally lost its footing in the world as the wind tore its fragile roots from the ground. As it came crashing down (luckily (or unluckily, depending on how you look at it), in the opposite direction from me), it opened a gulf above the floor; a gulf which allowed sunlight to reach the ground. Seeds which had lain obsolete in the darkness for perhaps even a hundred years suddenly saw the potential that came from this beam of light, and began to break out of the ground and tower towards it.
And in my rambling insanity I talked to the seeds. �So, seed, you were there when the tree came crashing down? Your waiting in the shade has finally paid off? Well, stop patting yourself on the back. (Of course a seed can pat itself on its back. Use your imagination, godammit!) Making it to the starting line is nothing. What matters is how you build upon that potential. But I digress...
And so I go home, eat cookies, drink cider, watch The Simpsons, and return in one year.
I see that the race has begun in earnest. The birch trees have shot out of the ground are stretching upwards. It would appear easy to pick out the eventual winner; some of the birch trunks are narrow, looking like nothing more than upright branches. On the other hand, one or two have thickened out, strengthened, and don�t look as though they will buckle under the pressure of the first gust of wind. Their foliage is already beginning to overcast the area below it.
At this point, I rush off to my local bookmakers and place a bet on the strongest of the Birch trees being the eventually winner. I am thrown out of the betting shop because they don�t take bets on horticultural issues (shame on them!) As it happens, in throwing me out, they saved me a substantial amount of money. Indeed, the eventual winner is easily missed, indeed it�s a surprise that nobody has ruined its chances by stepping on it. For no more than a foot and a half above the ground stands what looks nothing more than a small shrub. Its diminutive stature belies what it really is; a mighty oak.
You see, the birches had shot their load far too early. Certainly for around 50 years, one or two birches rule all they survey. But inevitably, they fall victim to disease and fugal infection. And within a century they are dead and gone. The shrub that they had looked down their noses at (yes, I know, noses- use your imagination again...) had spent its time building a mighty root structure and rose with majesty rather than haste. And now I stand (complete with grey hair, a zimmer frame and a large bald patch), and watch the Oak stand their as the sole monarch of the forest. And then some fool comes along with a chainsaw and chops it down� Hmm. There�s a lesson to be learned somewhere, but I�m not sure what it is. Ah yes. Buy a chainsaw. No, that�s not it� Ah yes. Take the time to develop a root structure, and maintain a sound pace rather than attempting to put speed above sound tactical planning and foundation.
Oh, and having a chainsaw never hurts. Unless you cut yourself with it, in which case it hurts a lot. Hmm...
Lord Irvine