In Utah, on our way to Salt Lake City, we had strolled along the rim of Bryce Canyon, admiring the cacti, the ponderosas, the magical, glowing hoodoos below. And then we came upon a grove of bristlecone pines, Pinus longaeva. They were twisted and stark, unimpressive, not at all like the magnificent white pines from home. But then we read the park service sign that told the story of these ancient pines. When the trunk of a bristlecone begins to decay, the tree, in an amazing feat of self-preservation, stretches its branches to the ground, forming a new trunk. It recreates itself. It is reborn.
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