“Every tree in the forest has a story to tell. Some of them were burnt but they endured the fire and got revived; some of them were cut, their barks injured, some people pick up their leaves to make medicines for their sicknesses, birds used their leaves to make their nests, etc. Upon all these, the tree is still tree!”
― Israelmore Ayivor

This ancient sycamore, in New York City’s Bryant Park, certainly would have stories to tell. I have no idea how old it might be, but someone planted it behind the New York Public library many years ago and it has borne silent witness to a multitude events and changes in its long life. This old wood has weathered time and endured, its bark rough and creased with age, unlike its younger companions with their smooth, mottled bark, so typical of the fast growing sycamores, planted in neat rows in this urban park.

Pieces of bark have fallen off, been broken off, revealing the bright layers below, or clung tight to the tree, growing dark and gray with the patina of time.

As the quote above says, every forest has its story to tell. I look on these gnarled old trees and decaying stumps, thinking back to when they were young saplings. These are the survivors, having outlived other lesser trees, every year marked in their rough and ragged bark.

Nikon D300
Tamron 70-200 mm f/2.8 @ 125 mm
1/320 sec, f/9.0 -1.0, ISO 400

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