I had a pleasant job when I was 16 working in a small, private greenhouse and cut-flower garden. Immersion in floral rainbows and thick greenery each day delighted me then as it does now. Behind the greenhouse was a small yard of luxuriant, thin-bladed grass with a carefully pruned, standard size apple tree growing in the midst of it. About twenty-five feet tall and perhaps thirty feet across, this robust tree provided cool summer shade to the yard. I enjoyed taking my lunch breaks in this yard, leaning against the apple tree.
During my lunch break one day, having already eaten my sandwich, I took a notion to climb the apple tree. It was early Summer and the apples were still quite tiny and the leaves were nearing their full flush and strength. I do not remember exactly why I needed to climb that day since I usually rested during my break. I do recall that I liked to peer into the canopy when resting against the tree trunk. I had marveled at the patterns of filtered green light diminishing daily until the shade was almost complete from the converging growth. From this perspective the canopy formed a flawless fractal flower of greenery evenly spread by its living fan of twigs, branches, limbs, and trunk. I believe I simply could not resist being up into the thickness of that beauty.