A windrow of thick trunks along the road. The scene resolves to black and white and I picture the day when those giants were sown.

Burlap sacks of seedlings line the dirt road. Their leaves as big as when mature; Their trunks but twigs, puppies with giant mismatched paws.

A man in overalls foots a shovel blade.  Sweat beads upon his wrinkled brow. His grandson lends a tiny hand with the rocky soil, round stones polished by  streams long gone are heaved from the fresh dug holes.

He smiles at the young boy’s effort and tells him that when he’s a grandfather…

But that was a long time ago.