The Tall Tree

Sometimes when you’re feeling a bit melancholy, and the world seems too confounding for words, the best way to express yourself is through a story.  So today, rather than my usual newsy blog post, I’m going to tell a story.

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tree01 Once there was a young sapling who grew up on a grassy mountaintop. From his high perch he breathed the fresh air and gazed out at the endless blue sky full of possibility.

The big world felt intimidating, but the sapling wasn’t afraid. This is because a much bigger, stronger tree stood nearby, sheltering and protecting him. This was none other than the sapling’s father, a tall tree with outstretched branches that seemed to touch the sky.

illustration 2
The tall tree watched over the whole mountainside and all the creatures that lived there. Birds made their nests in the tall branches, rabbits scampered in the shade, honeybees and insects roamed among the flowers.

The young sapling wanted to be more like the tall tree, and stretched his branches as far as he could. But he knew he could never stretch them as high as the tall tree.
In the summer, torrential storms brought wind and rain. The sapling thought the whole mountaintop would blow away. But the tall tree clung to the ground, holding the earth together with his roots.

In the autumn, the tall tree’s leaves turned orange and fell to the ground. The little tree watched and did the same. Birds flew south, and the winds became colder.
In the winter, heavy snow fell, but the tall tree caught most of it so that it wouldn’t fall on the little tree. The sapling noticed how the tall tree’s branches would bend but not break, and he tried to do the same.

Finally spring came, the snow melted, and the tall tree sprouted fresh new leaves. The little tree knew it was time for him to sprout leaves as well. The birds returned to build their nests, and everything was as it should be.


The years passed, and the young tree watched the seasons go by. He laughed as the squirrels chased each other around the meadow, and he gasped as a butterfly narrowly escaped a frog. He thrilled as a flock of starlings swooped down and away in a flutter of wings.

During one particularly bad storm, part of the hillside washed away. This made the young tree sad, for he always liked the flowers that grew there. But the tall tree comforted him, saying, “Don’t cry little tree. Sometimes things change whether we like it or not.”


“Well, I don’t like it!” said the little tree. But he tried to be strong like the tall tree.

Many seasons passed, and the young tree grew bigger and stronger. The tall tree looked down at him and smiled. “You’re becoming a fine tree indeed,” he said. But the young tree knew he still wasn’t as big and strong as the tall tree, even though the old tree had lost a few branches from all the storms he had weathered.

tree08bThen one summer, the tall tree became sick. He had overcome countless injuries in his life, but this illness was stronger than anything he had ever encountered.

The tall tree grew weaker. His bark became brittle, and he could no longer hold up his branches. The young tree wanted to help, but there was nothing he could do, he could only look on helplessly.

Finally one summer evening, the tall tree could not hold himself up any longer. He took his final breath, and he died.


The little tree, who was no longer little, felt sad and alone as he stood on the cold mountaintop. His leaves fell like raindrops and he bowed his branches. He didn’t know what to do. The old tree had always been there to watch over him, to show him what to do next.

As the winds turned colder and the birds flew south, the tree stood alone. He no longer enjoyed watching the seasons pass. The world froze around him as snowflakes fell, and he wished the snow would bury him forever.


All winter long, storms pummeled the hillside, but the tree did not budge. He clung to the earth and slept beneath the snow and ice.

After what seemed a very long time, the days became longer, and the snow melted. The tree awoke to an empty gray world. He knew he ought to be doing something, but he couldn’t remember what it was.

Then he felt a tingling sensation in his branches, and noticed buds sprouting into fresh new leaves. But how was this possible?


He heard a chirping sound, and looked up to see the birds returning from their winter travels. He was surprised when they started to land in his own branches.

“Wait,” he called out to them, “I’m not strong enough to build on!”

tree12a“Of course you are,” the birds chirped. Meanwhile, two squirrels began to chase each other around the hillside. A rabbit peeked out from the grass, munching on a flower.

“No wait, this is all wrong,” said the tree. “Don’t you see that the old tree is gone? I can never do what he did.”

“Yes you can,” chirped the birds, “you’re doing it right now. And we need you now more than ever.”

“But it’s too hard, I can’t do this alone,” said the tree, feeling more helpless than ever.

“You’re not alone,” said a voice behind him.


He looked around, but it was not a bird or a squirrel who spoke. It was another tree, much like himself, growing nearby. And there was another tree near that one. And another. In fact, the whole mountainside was covered with trees.

“We all miss the old tree,” said one of them kindly, “but we have to carry on his work, we have to pass down what he taught us. That’s what he would want us to do.”

The young tree blinked through his tears. He looked out across the hillside, where a field of fresh flowers was blooming. Then he looked up into the vast blue sky and stretched out his branches as high as he could, as the birds landed and began to build their nests.


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Like most of my stories, that one was inspired by true events. My own father passed away last fall, and the ensuing months have been challenging. But I also count myself fortunate in many ways. My creative pursuits have provided both an escape from real life and a way to explore it more fully, to try and make sense of it all.

I have no plans for this story, and it would have likely remained hidden in my notebooks with so many of its cousins, except that I had a need to share it. And even if only five people ever read it, that’s okay. It’s the sharing that counts.

The start of a new year is often a time for making big plans, but this year I don’t have such ambitions, I’ve seen too many big plans fall by the wayside. This year I’ll be looking for small gains, small rewards, like the tiny shells on the beach that get overlooked, and yet that very fact makes them special. And if I’m the only one who sees their value, perhaps that’s all the more reason to protect and nurture them. So I’ll continue to write and draw, and tell stories in every medium that I can, and share them with anyone who wants to listen.

Thanks for reading this terribly long post. Now I’m off to look for shells.

24 thoughts on “The Tall Tree

  • February 25, 2015 at 11:35 pm

    That was the finest Eulogy I have ever heard.
    I believe it trumps mine with ease.

  • February 26, 2015 at 11:31 am

    Thank you for this John, it speaks to all of us who have lost a parent. I’ll read your stories anytime. We love them!

  • February 26, 2015 at 5:59 pm

    LOVE it.

  • February 26, 2015 at 6:08 pm

    Thank you for this lovely piece.

  • February 26, 2015 at 7:40 pm

    Thank you so very much for posting this. It is one of the most beautiful things I have ever read.Please keep doing it.

  • February 26, 2015 at 9:00 pm

    It’s hard to process things like this that happen and make any kind of sense of it, let alone move on. The fact that you have captured that process so eloquently brings tears to my eyes and a smile to my face simultaneously… kind of like the tree. Thank you for sharing, it IS important for so many reasons.

  • February 26, 2015 at 9:40 pm

    Beautiful. Strikes a chord.
    Thanks for sharing!

  • February 26, 2015 at 11:48 pm

    This is beautiful John. Thank you so much for sharing so many wonderful thoughts and memories. Sending you so many good thoughts.


  • February 27, 2015 at 9:29 am

    Possibly one of the most important stories you’ve ever created John. Cherishing this like a brilliant shell unexpectedly found poking from the sand.


    Thank you for sharing John!

  • February 27, 2015 at 10:30 am

    A beautiful story, John. Your thoughts that you shared after the story were very moving and so very true. The older I get – and the more people I lose in my life – it makes me savor the small things – the important things. Thanks for inspiring us. I am blessed to have you as a friend.

  • February 27, 2015 at 11:52 am

    This is real and lovely, John.
    Full of strength, vulnerability, and heart.
    So sorry that you lost your father.

  • February 27, 2015 at 6:11 pm

    A beautiful story, John. Even more beautiful, your determination to continue making and telling your stories.

  • February 27, 2015 at 7:24 pm

    What a lovely tribute to your father–and to all those who shelter us as we grow! Thank you, John! Really lovely to enjoy your beautiful art and stories!

  • March 1, 2015 at 2:45 pm

    Such a lovely, touching, honest, and ultimately comforting story. I hope you make this into a book so many more people can read it.

  • March 1, 2015 at 8:04 pm

    Thanks for sharing that wonderful story! You make your Dad , and all the rest of us, so proud Keep it up !

  • March 2, 2015 at 11:22 am

    John, what a moving, beautiful tribute to your dad and the strength he gave to you. He had so much love to give to everyone. What a tremendous gift he was to all of us who loved him so. Aunt Rita

  • March 2, 2015 at 8:24 pm

    I really enjoyed your story! Your father would be do proud. It’s a great message for all of us to carry and share with our families! Thank you for sharing!

  • March 3, 2015 at 10:16 am

    A beautiful story,that everyone of all ages can relate to. Am so privileged to have read it. Loved the art work too! Thank you Susan.

  • March 3, 2015 at 10:39 am

    Must add that you are a very talented young man. Am proud to be a relative!

  • March 5, 2015 at 4:27 pm

    What a beautiful story, made more so by the meaning behind it. So glad you decided to share this story , it’s a treasure.

  • March 14, 2015 at 2:03 pm

    What a wonderful story and tribute to your Dad.
    Thank you for letting us read it.

  • March 22, 2015 at 3:58 pm

    Enjoyed this story very much! Thanks for writing it.

  • March 28, 2015 at 8:32 am

    Thank you for sharing so much of yourself, all of it strengths, weaknesses, fears, and vulnerability. I truly believe, that when we choose, as you have done, to honestly convey who we are out for all to share, we have a life of endless possibilities. Anything less, deprives you, and all of us delighting at being allowed into your innermost self, these wonderful gifts you share.
    Thank you for your courage, your family is very proud of you and you grace us who know you only through your open, honest sharing of yourself.
    Thank You
    ( from a member of your brother’s choir )
    He, too, has an adoring following. You are Testements to Your Dad’s Work! An amazing man, who’s ‘little trees’ are growing into ‘sturdy trees’ doing ‘good works’ on the planet!

  • June 24, 2021 at 1:47 pm

    My husband is slipping away due to Alzheimer’s. I ran across this story searching for lovely images of big trees and little trees to show a 3 yr. old granddaughter. I’m keeping this to share with our three sons when their dad dies. It’s poignant, warm, real and hopeful. Thank you! Has it been published in book form with illustrations? I would love to buy the books.

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