Birch Magic

As a native New Englander, it is embedded in my DNA to swoon over red-leafed maple trees. Others of my clan love the feel of soft green pine needles. Still others admire the industrious spray of acorns produced by the mighty oak. 

But somehow I missed that boat. I only have eyes for the ghostly birch.

My favorite tree grows best in areas of moist soil and full sun. Which is why you so often see their delicate pale trunks beside lakes and ponds. They are an aberration here where dull brown bark reigns supreme. But perhaps that's their magic. It's as if you can see right through their translucent sheath, right into their core. 

"I wonder what a soul…a person's soul…would look like,' said Priscilla dreamily. 'Like that, I should think,' answered Anne, pointing to a radiance of sifted sunlight streaming through a birch tree." - L.M. Montgomery